Sed Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes
by pink-levicorpus
Summary: It is seventh year and Hermione has been appointed Head Girl opposite Draco Malfoy. How will the trio react when Hermione begins to feel the effects of working so close to Draco?
1. Non Semper Erit Aestas

**Sed Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes? _(Who watches the watchmen?)_**

****

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else I may find them. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One:** Non _Semper Erit Aestas_ (It will not always be Summer)

_The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there_

-L.P. Hartley

Hermione bit her lip, fending off the uncomfortable feeling that she was missing something. She knew of course that her qualms were ridiculous—she had packed her school trunk a week earlier and had double checked everything on the hermeneutic letter she had received as an inauguration to her seventh year. Still, she couldn't help feeling that despite all of her careful planning, all of her checklists, all of her countless hours of packing, that she had forgotten something. _You're probably just nervous_, Hermione chided herself, glancing around her room once more. She kept expecting something to catch her eye—some minute object she had forgotten that would ease her unsettled conscious—but nothing more than her various books and scattered papers seemed to fall into her line of vision.

In all honesty, Hermione wasn't surprised by her anxiety. Ever since she had received her Hogwarts letter announcing her position as Head Girl a month earlier, she had seemed to fall prey to a persistent fretfulness that threatened to drive her crazy. She began to worry the tiniest details into nothingness, stressing out not only herself but everyone else around her. She had even forgone her annual trip to the Burrow in order to ensure that there would be no last minute bedlam to frazzle her already-worn out nerves. As it turned out however, Hermione was worried enough and couldn't imagine how the Burrow and her friends would have been able to add to it. _If anything they would probably be able to calm me down_, Hermione thought bitterly, throwing open her school trunk to check its contents for the umpteenth time. _What am I forgetting_, Hermione thought to herself, ruffling through her trunk in an attempt to find the missing piece.

* * *

Elsewhere, Harry, Ron and Ginny were all packing up their trunks with the usual chaos that accompanied any event in the Weasley household. Over the years the three had gotten used to having Hermione with them—the stable force that told them what they needed to pack and when. Since she had declined the offer to stay at the Burrow however, the three had been left to their own devices, a dangerous opportunity which had resulted in the disarray that they were currently in the middle of. 

"Do you have my robes?" Ginny demanded, storming into the room where Ron and Harry were packing. Ron jumped at Ginny's biting tone and glanced around hastily.

"Like I would have _your _robes," he snapped back before noticing that he did in fact have Ginny's robes poking out of his trunk. Whipping them out with lightning speed, he tossed them across the room to his sister who was waiting with her hands on her hips.

"What about my books—did you get your old ones out of the closet like mum asked you to a _week _ago?" Ginny demanded, taking in the scene around her. She doubted that Ron had even gotten the books out, but even if she had, she had bigger doubts about being able to locate them _now_. The room was in complete disarray—books, clothing, cauldrons and everything else one could possibly imagine littered the furniture and flooring, rendering one completely unable to move more than a few feet without risking severe injury. She began to wonder how any of them had survived the summer without Hermione's careful organization.

"Have any of you seen my broomstick? I swear it was just here the other day," Harry asked wearily, sounding more than a little dismayed. Ginny stared at the older boy with nothing short of admiration. Since Dumbledore's funeral at the end of the school year, Ginny had respected Harry's wish for separation, a request that had been sorely tested all summer when Harry had bunked at the Burrow. Things had become especially strained when Molly Weasley had banished Harry's plan of leaving school by threatening to do much worse to the boys than Voldemort ever could. Surprisingly, Harry had agreed to finish his last year, a blessing and a curse for Ginny who felt torn between her own feelings for the older boy. She wanted desperately to respect his wishes to remain apart, even though she was fairly certain that his feelings for her had not changed, as hers regarding him had not altered in the least either.

"I think you left it against the back door last night," Ginny supplied helpfully, recalling with a slight smile the late-night Quidditch game that the three had engaged in, in lieu of packing.

"Thanks," Harry said briefly, hopping over the two open trunks and an impossibly large pile of clothes to the door where he promptly disappeared down the hallway. With him gone, Ginny turned back to her brother who was struggling to force his school books into his trunk.

"Need help?" Ginny offered, eyeing several more things around the room that belonged to her. _Honestly_, she thought with a sigh, _how did we ever manage to get packed before?_ That of course led Ginny to thoughts of her absentee friend once more and she glanced back to Ron with a sigh. "Do you need _help_?" She repeated in a slightly more aggravated tone. Ron looked over to his little sister, wondering briefly how someone so innocent-looking could inspire so much fear in a person.

"I'm fine," Ron grunted breathlessly, turning his efforts back to the rogue books that had no intentions of being packed. Ginny rolled her eyes, battling through the mess to Ron.

"Very convincing," she said dryly, shifting a few sweaters around. The books immediately fell into place and Ron stared speechlessly at his sister.

"How'd you _do _that?" Ginny shrugged, pulling her forgotten robes from under Ron's foot.

"It's just about spacing—where are my books?" Ginny supplied, quickly shifting the conversation back to the pressing issue.

"I dunno, ask mum," Ron said noncommittally, already distracted by how he would manage to get some of his Quidditch supplies packed now that the necessities were in the trunk. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I _did _ask her—she told me that _you _were supposed to get them out of the closet last _week_." Ginny paused for a reaction. Ron grunted. "You didn't get them yet did you?" She demanded fiercely, but she could tell by the way Ron's shoulders slumped dramatically that the answer was no.

"I'll get them I swear!" Ron cried out, shoving an extra sweater into his trunk. Ginny sighed and threw her hands in the air, narrowly missing Harry who was just returning, broom in hand.

"Have either of you seen where I put my wand? I can't find it anywhere," he moaned tiredly, walking back over to his trunk.

"I'll help you find your wand if you help me close this thing up," Ron offered, gesturing wildly to his overflowing trunk. Ginny cringed.

"Not before you get me my _books_!" She screeched and Ron smacked his forehead.

"Ginny calm down, I'll get you your blood books!" Ginny had to force herself not to kick her older brother's butt. _Where was Hermione when you needed her?_

* * *

Hermione cast one last look at her bedroom before wheeling her trunk out and shutting the door. She had yet to shake the feeling that she was forgetting something, but had driven herself crazy trying to figure out what it was and had finally decided that whatever she was forgetting, she would certainly figure it out soon, and would be able to have it sent to her at school, courtesy of her parents. She couldn't help feeling like it was some_thing _she was forgetting so much as it was some type of memory. It was no secret that Hermione longed for the simplicity of the past, where things were easily explainable and nice. A time when Dumbledore hadn't been murdered, a time when Hermione herself hadn't been embroiled in an adventure fit for a movie. She wanted to go back to her childhood when things were easily fixed by a band aid and a lollipop. 

"Hermione, we're going to be late if you don't hurry!"

Hermione shuddered at the shrill voice of her mother, cutting harshly into her nagging conscience. She had worried about this moment all summer, and it had finally come. With a steadying sigh, Hermione grabbed her trunk and went downstairs to join her parents. She knew that things weren't so simple anymore. She couldn't just lose herself in a book and pretend that everything was going to be okay. It was time to face the music. Summer was over, and it was time to go.


	2. Omne Initium Est Difficile

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two:** _Omne Initium Est Difficile _(Every beginning is difficult)

_"Believing something doesn't make it true; refusing to believe it doesn't make it false"_

Know Why You Believe by Paul Little

"Hermione!"

"Where?"

"Over there!"

"_Where_?"

"Right _there_!"

Hermione smiled, listening to the back-and-forth dialogue of her friends as they climbed onto the train. She had, of course, spotted the tell-tale red hair of Ron and Ginny across the platform but hadn't been able to get close due to the sheer mass of students and parents waiting anxiously for the Hogwarts Express. _I don't remember this many people _ever _waiting for the train, _Hermione noted to herself as a pair of first years pushed past her. It was true, too. Hermione was used to the chaos that the Hogwarts Express dutifully provided each year, but it had never amounted to such monumental proportions as this particular year. By the time Hermione had boarded the train there were only a few open compartments which she had been able to snag thanks in part to her agility and partly because of her new status as head girl—news which seemed to spread faster than she was able to comprehend.

"Hermione—_there_ you are!"

Hermione looked up as her friends piled into the previously-empty train compartment, watching as the empty spaces vanished before her eyes. She still couldn't believe that they were already in their seventh year. It seemed like just yesterday that she was boarding the Hogwarts Express for the first time, searching the compartments for a long-lost toad and telling the funny-looking red head that he had a smudge on his nose. _If I had only known then how much things would have changed—how much I would do_, Hermione mused silently, smiling in greeting at her friends.

"I saw you guys across the platform—I tried calling out but there were too many people," Hermione explained as Ginny offered her a messy-looking sandwich from her trunk.

"I _know,_ I don't think I've ever seen this many kids coming in—not since Charlie was a third year. Now _that _was insane," Ron recalled in between bites of his own homemade sandwich. "I guess it comes in waves."

"I was barely able to find an open compartment for all of us," Hermione offered and Ginny smiled.

"You always could have kicked some of the younger kids out of a compartment," Ron offered cheekily, causing Hermione's jaw to drop open in shock.

"Ronald—you _know _that I couldn't abuse my power like that. It would be absolutely despicable!" Hermione chided sharply, noting the bemused grins splashed across the faces of her friends.

"It's good to see you again, Hermione," Harry said lightly, voicing the thought on everyone's mind. "We missed you over the summer."

"Yeah—if you think you're going to leave me alone with these guys _next _summer, you are sorely mistaken," Ginny said brightly, casting skeptical glances at Ron and Harry who seemed nonplussed by her threat. Hermione laughed.

"Sorry about that Ginny—I really missed all of you as well," Hermione offered by way of apology. Ginny smiled pleasantly at her, all transgressions forgotten.

"Mum was devastated—she was beginning to take it personally. Thought it was her cooking," Ron said lightly but Hermione instantly felt bad. She knew how Molly Weasley loved company and her absence was probably noticed more than she imagined. In all honesty, Hermione had missed the Weasley clan more than she had let on to her parents—but she knew that she wouldn't be any fun had she gone. Every waking moment would have been spent making sure she had everything put together in a constant neurotic state. She had been nervous enough as it was and she had just been with her parents—the two possibly _calmest _people she had ever known.

"I really _did _want to come," Hermione said quietly. Her avowal was lost however in the commotion of the food cart as Harry and Ron both rushed to place their orders. It was only Ginny who stayed back, nudging her friend comfortingly.

"It's okay Hermione," she acknowledged sweetly, "we all understood that you wanted to prepare on your own. There were times when _I _was tempted to come visit _you_." Hermione smiled, comforted by her friend, and watched as Harry and Ron filed back to their seats, arms laden with sweets.

"Here Herms," Harry said, tossing a chocolate frog her way. She caught it and smiled gratefully at her friend.

"What—only Hermione gets a sweet?" Ginny demanded, her tone laced with humor. Ron made a face at his younger sister, tossing her a half-eaten licorice wand.

"_You _didn't get named Head Girl," Ron justified in a standoffish tone, smiling devilishly at his younger sister who looked ready to attack.

"_I _haven't had the opportunity yet—not that I'd even _want _that type of responsibility. Besides, I haven't seen _you _given the honor either," Ginny shot back, snatching a cockroach cluster from Ron's impressive pile. Hermione sat up instantly. In all of her worries over her _own _performance she had completely neglected to find out who was the male head of the dorm. She had harbored a few thoughts about sharing the honor with Harry, but she knew that it couldn't be true. Harry would have told her by now if it had been him. But other than him, Hermione couldn't really think of anyone else. Ron had the heart but lacked the grades, as was evidenced by his latest marks and Hermione knew of no one else who might be able to step into the position. There were a few Ravenclaws that Hermione thought might be able to capture the honor, but no one specifically came to mind.

"Speaking of that, who _is _the Head Boy?" Hermione found herself asking when no better prospect came to mind. She was answered by an uncomfortable silence in which Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged uneasy glances. "What is it?" Hermione pressed, feeling a slight nauseous rush slip over her. Whoever it was it was clear to Hermione that she would not like it.

"Well, you see," Ron began awkwardly, his tone evidence of his lack of proper diction, "we thought you _knew_."

"Yeah—we thought they would tell you in the letter or something," Harry offered quietly, his eyes large behind his dark-rimmed glasses. Hermione could feel her heart start up at a breakneck speed, pounding heavily in her chest. She couldn't think of anyone who would cause the normally forthcoming group to transform into a bunch of incoherent children. _Unless_, Hermione began inwardly, _no—it couldn't be_. Suddenly, it dawned on Hermione. She knew exactly who Head Boy was. The same boy who had managed to make her last six years of school an absolute terror with his crude insults about appearance and aptitude. The same boy who had strolled through the hallways as if he personally owned them. The same boy who had cockily reminded each year of her weak lineage and inferior status. The same boy whose shockingly bright hair was unmistakable as he strode in the middle of his two lackeys, through the narrow hallway of the Hogwarts Express to the Heads compartment where Hermione herself was supposed to be heading. Hermione swallowed apprehensively, her hand going instinctively to her head as a wave of nausea swept through her head with lightning speed.

"Oh, bloody hell…."


	3. Venienti occurrite morbo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy! Another note in this chapter is that I refer to the Hermione-punching-Malfoy scene of book three. The movie portrayed it as a punch while I always remembered it in the book as a _slap_, so I kind of used both. Whichever scenario you prefer, you may use that one. Thank you.

* * *

**Chapter Three:** _Venienti occurrite morbo_ (Meet the misfortune as it comes. Persius)

_Quit now and you'll never make it. If you disregard this advice and you're halfway there._

David Zucker

"Granger."

It was far from a greeting but Hermione had yet to determine whether or not it was a battle cry either. It was simply there. A dropped syllable or two in the previously-silent compartment.

"Malfoy," Hermione said in acknowledgment of the blond-haired Slytherin who already looked bored of her presence. She matched his tone perfectly, as if incapable of figuring out what the tenor of conversation would be. Truthfully, Hermione _didn't _know. She couldn't tell if Draco had matured over the summer and had come back ready to make peace. She couldn't tell if he had decided to bury the hatchet, as she was willing to do, and call some sort of truce. It made sense, Hermione figured, since they would undoubtedly be working quite closely for the duration of the school year. As Head students they were expected to collaborate on a certain number of projects and Hermione knew that it would be much easier if they mutually agreed to forgive and forget. Then he spoke and all mystery was lost.

"Don't drown," he commented, his signature smirk broadening across his features. Hermione instantly snapped out of her trance, stepping into the compartment and shutting the door more powerfully than she intended. The compartment shuddered lightly and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"What are you on about?" Hermione snapped back, ignoring the nagging feeling that she was being made fun of.

"My eyes—you were staring," Draco clarified, making no moves to clear away his things that were currently piled on Hermione's seat.

"Don't flatter yourself Malfoy," Hermione warned tiredly, brushing his things away carelessly and sitting down with an unceremonious _thud_. He sat up sharply, the smirk disappearing from his face, only to be replaced by an angry frown.

"Hey watch it," he snapped, picking up his displaced things and righting them closer to his own seat. "This stuff costs more than your _house._" At Hermione's disbelieving expression, Draco sat back, his mouth turned into a petulant frown. "Honestly Granger, you have the grace of a Hippogriff."

"I'm sure," Hermione shot back, feeling slightly immature. She had hoped to make peace with Draco but that was obviously not an option. She would just have to grin and bear it and avoid him as much as she could all year. For the times when she _did _have to work alongside him she would just have to—_well, I'll just have to get better at my comebacks now, won't I, _Hermione reflected, still cringing at her weak remark.

"And with articulation like that it's no wonder youwere named Head Girl," Draco shot back in a dry tone of voice. He sounded bored and for that Hermione was grateful. If he was bored, maybe he wouldn't exacerbate the situation.

"Well I would say that it's more of a mystery how _you _were able to be named Head Boy," Hermione snapped, "After engaging in a murder plot against Dumbledore and betraying your school, I bet it took a fine sum of money to secure your position." Draco's face flushed red and she could see his fists clench threateningly.

"_I _wouldn't be talking about things you know _nothing _about," Draco snarled back through clenched teeth. "I _earned _my position same as you. Well, not the _same_ as _you_. _I'm _not associated with _Mudbloods_." Hermione felt a shock of anger surge through her at the mention of the filthy word. She had never cared for Draco or his remarks, but that one had always been the worst. To be reminded of her lineage every day in such a crude way was not only insulting to her, but her family as well. It was more than she could stand to handle.

"I'm not staying here listening to you be _rude_," Hermione snapped, standing to leave the compartment. _Let a professor find me later and give me the information_, Hermione thought to herself, only questioning why she had stayed so long in the first place.

"You'll find better places for that, I'm sure," Draco drawled, his tone bored and uninterested once more. Hermione rolled her eyes, making to leave the room when a hand shot out, halting her in her tracks.

"Bugger off Malfoy," Hermione snapped, too aggravated to notice his hand on her arm.

"Oh, keep your temper, Granger. A professor will be in here momentarily to spell out our duties and then we'll both be off to our own cabins," Draco said in a surprisingly level voice. Hermione sighed, battling the inevitable. She knew that it would look better if she and Draco were at least capable of sharing a room for a few _minutes_. Still, the prospect of returning to her friends seemed much less demoralizing than remaining stuck with _Malfoy_.

"What happens when we have to share a common room with eachother?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. Ever since she had heard who her co-Head was she had been contemplating the same question. She could handle working with him on projects when she could escape, even if it was only for a few moments, and she knew that her friends would be there to keep her sane. What would happen though when they had to share a common room? She would never be able to study! Hermione could picture Malfoy doing things to purposely annoy her—nothing was too low or slimy for him to try.

"What about it? Afraid I'll try and sneak into your bedroom?" Draco taunted, settling back into his seat. He closed his eyes as if bored by the situation, but Hermione could still see the incredulousness painted across his porcelain visage. "I'd rather take my chances with Moaning Myrtle if you don't mind."

Hermione leaned back in her seat, fighting off the impulse to add her own affront to the repartee. It was only the appearance of a professor that exempted both students from the full out brawl that was inevitable without some type of intercession. Hermione sighed, rubbing her forehead. A year with Malfoy. _Oh joy. _

* * *

"Hermione! There you are!"

Hermione smiled resignedly, stumbling back into her friend's compartment. She had been gone a while and had begun to doubt her own safe return. The professor that had ended up giving them their introductory speech to the year had been unrecognizable—some first year teacher—and had talked endlessly, outlining each and every task that was expected of Draco and Hermione. At times, Hermione herself had been tempted to give up the position altogether if only to release herself from the interminable speech.

"We were about ready to send out a search party for you!" Ron exclaimed brightly, his face red behind his freckles. "We thought Malfoy must have hoodwinked or kidnapped you somehow!" Hermione had to smile at that. The thought of Malfoy coming close enough to _touch _her, much less _kidnap _her was almost laughable. It was true that he had been matured over the summer, as many of her peers were wont to do during a long absence, but he looked in no way capable of being able to _hurt _her—physically that is.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Hermione commented lightly, a small trace of her former jollity becoming clearer through her tone. Harry beamed brightly, ruffling a hand through his dark hair.

"Yeah, Malfoy may be able to throw insults, but I'll never forget his face when Hermione threw that punch in third year." Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment. However exalting that moment had been, Hermione had always felt a trace of shame about it. It was so unlike how she had been brought up and although it had received wide praise, Hermione had always felt she had betrayed her parents and their docile temperament. It was the one time in her life that she felt as though she _deserved _to be called a Mudblood—as if her barbaric actions confirmed what Malfoy had been saying their entire schooling years. Still though, she couldn't deny the surge of elation that the moment had conjured and shied away from Harry's comment both from pride and embarrassment.

"It was really more of a _slap_," Hermione reminded him, glancing out the window. They were already nearing the school and Hermione had yet to change into her robes. Fishing them out of her bag, Hermione cast one last look back to the Heads compartment where she had spent the last hour avoiding Malfoy's icy glare.

It was going to be a long year.

* * *

Sources:

"I'm not staying here...you'll find better places for that I'm sure." Was from Alice and Wonderland (As said by Alice and the March Hare)

"Keep your temper" Was also from Alice and Wonderland (as said by the Caterpillar)


	4. Credo nos in fluctu eodem esse

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four:** _Credo nos in fluctu eodem esse_ (I think we're on the same wavelength)

_In a world of nonsense, everything something is, it isn't, everything it would be wouldn't, and everything it wasn't, was._

Unknown

"So this is it."

Draco, who had kept a good ten feet of distance between himself and Hermione, stopped suddenly in the doorway, halted by her stationary form.

"Yes, yes, here it is. Do you think you'll be going _in _any time soon Granger?" Draco grunted stoically, obviously not as impressed with the Heads common room as Hermione seemed to be. She moved aside wordlessly, determined not to let Draco's indifference bring her down. _He _may have been used to the elegance that the Heads common room offered, but it was a far cry from anything Hermione had ever seen. Sure it was simply furnished—with only a few chairs, a sofa, one coffee table and a few end tables—but to Hermione, it was absolutely beautiful. All the furniture looked as if it had been plucked from some antebellum living room and the pictures on the wall were of all the preceding Heads, dating back to the very first pair—a pedantic looking duo with stiff features and even stiffer-looking clothes. While the rest of the Head students smiled prettily from their frames, whispering and joking with their pair, the primary pair sat with their backs to eachother, noses high in the air.

"Harry would love this," Hermione breathed softly, catching sight of one of the more recent pictures. It showed Lily Evans and James Potter, whispering secretly amongst themselves. Every now and then, Lily would toss her head back and laugh, her green eyes shining brightly. Hermione could picture Harry's face when he saw them together—visible proof of his parent's love. Draco turned and looked, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Oh hell Granger—as if sharing a common room with _you _isn't bad enough. There's no way in the seven circles of hell that I'm going to tolerate Potty and the Weasel-kids running around where _I'm _trying to work." Hermione opened her mouth to argue but snapped it immediately. He _did _have a point. As much as she hated to admit it, it was _his _common room too—the place where he would have to work. She knew she would hardly be able to study with _his _friends around.

"Fine, but you can't have any of _your _followers hanging around here either," Hermione confirmed sharply. She shuddered at the thought of Crabbe and Goyle devastating the beautiful furniture. To Hermione's surprise, Draco shrugged indifferently, plopping down on the sofa and stretching out.

"No worries there," he assured her tiredly, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. Hermione regarded him cautiously, making sure that she had covered all loopholes.

"That means no Crabbe or Goyle," Hermione tested, watching Draco for a reaction. He didn't even bat an eye.

"Okay," he said mildly. Hermione remained skeptical.

"That means no Pansy or anyone else you can convince to hang around you either." Draco sighed heavily, sitting up and staring uninterestedly at Hermione.

"Granger, I'm perfectly aware of the boundaries and regulations of 'none of my followers can hang around here'. You don't need to spell it out for me," Draco snapped and Hermione could feel her cheeks redden.

"I was just making sure that you understood the rules. If I can't have any of _my _friends up here, you certainly can't have any of _your _friends," Hermione defended, her cheeks still crimson from her latest discomfiture. Draco moaned dramatically.

"As flattered as I am that you think you need to lay everything out for me, you would do well to remember that I am _not _Potty or Weasel and am fully capable of understanding things the first time around."

"Do you _have _to insult my friends with _every _breath you take?" Hermione demanded pointedly. Draco shrugged.

"Quite the hypocrite, aren't we Granger?" He drawled to Hermione's slacked-jaw incredulousness.

"I did no such thing!" She defended hotly, folding her arms defiantly over her chest. "I never said anything bad about your friends!"

"But you were thinking it, weren't you? Cringing at the thought of Crabbe and Goyle slouching around on the fancy chairs you have so openly eulogized." For a minute Hermione stood completely frozen, shocked at the clarity of which Draco predicted her thoughts. Then, when she realized that Draco was still looking at her as if waiting for her to refute the claim, she coughed suddenly to clear her throat and mind. "There's no use denying it Granger, I can tell," Draco supplied, inadvertently saving Hermione from coming up with a convincing denunciation.

"I'm not _that _readable," Hermione offered weakly, but even she knew it wasn't true. If it _was _then she wouldn't be fighting off embarrassment while trying to come up with some clever rejoinder that would leave Draco feeling as tongue-tied as she was. Draco scoffed at this declaration, standing up so that he was staring straight at Hermione.

"Granger—you wear your thoughts like most girls wear make up. Everything's right there," he said, indicating his face. Hermione, slightly unnerved by this observation, turned away from Draco and walked slowly towards her room.

"I'm turning in for the night. I'll see you in the morning," Hermione clipped, carefully keeping her gaze turned down to the ground so as not to catch any unintended glances of her dorm mate.

"Don't get all touchy Granger—I was just making an observation," Draco said, falling back into his regularly-snarky tone. "It isn't like I insulted your boyfriends or anything." Hermione sighed.

"Honestly Malfoy—it's been seven _years_. Don't you think you can lay off of Harry and Ron for a few _hours _at least?" Draco looked as if he was contemplating the suggestion, his trademark smirk returning with vigor.

"Sorry Granger—I don't recall _that _being one of the stipulations of the position."

* * *

"Hermione—you're _alive_!"

Hermione laughed out loud as an over-excited Ginny raced from the breakfast tables towards her friend. It seemed to her that every time she saw her friends these days they expressed a similar sentiment—as if perpetually surprised by her well being.

"We were taking bets on how long it would take before you jumped off the astronomy tower," Ron stated matter-of-factly, waving a hand at the rest of the table who were presumably engaged in the betting pool as well. Hermione rolled her eyes, sitting in-between Harry and Ginny.

"Oh honestly," Hermione chided lightly, smiling at her friend's foolishness, "you lot are all so _dramatic_."

"_I_ bet that you would throw _Malfoy _off of the astronomy tower," Ginny confided secretively, elbowing her friend lightly. Hermione smiled brightly, glad to be back in the company of people who weren't constantly insulting her. All night she had been on edge—eager to determine whether or not Malfoy was in fact making fun of her with each of his smug comments—and it was good to finally be back in the buoyant graces of her friends.

"So how's Malfoy so far? Has he done anything really bad yet? You know Hermione; if you catch him doing anything _really _incriminating you could report him and probably have him thrown out of school—or even put into Azkaban!" Ron expressed in a notably chipper mood. Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's childish excitability.

"Yes Ronald, just last night Malfoy threw a little soirée for him and his Death Eater friends. Quite a charming bunch when you get used to them—the smell of rotting flesh is a little hard to get over, but a truly lovely group altogether," Hermione deadpanned, delighting in the bounty of smiles that cropped up around the table at her joke. Ron reddened, taking a discomfited glance around the table.

"I was just thinking you might be able to catch him at something," Ron grumbled, spooning a large portion of food into his mouth. Hermione shrugged.

"I may be able to catch him _wearing _something embarrassing, but I doubt that he would go so far as to arrange some sort of tête-à-tête with Voldemort himself in our common room. He may be an arrogant git, but he does have sense enough to know who exactly he is rooming with." Those scattered around the table that were still paying close attention to the conversation nodded knowingly at Hermione's statement.

"Speaking of your room," Harry began, clearing his throat loudly, "when do we get to see it?" Ron nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, I heard that they have a bath the size of a swimming pool!"

"Well I heard that there's a whole staff of house elves that will get you whatever you want, day or night," Lavender Brown squealed excitedly, leaning towards Hermione conspiratorially, "but you don't really use them, do you? Because of the whole S.P.E.W. thing?" Hermione rolled her eyes at all of her friend's fabrications.

"Honestly, it's a _room _not a _palace_. It's just the same as the Gryffindor common room, except it has neutral colors rather than discriminating for each house," Hermione clarified to her awestruck friends. Either they didn't believe her or they chose to ignore her, as the whole table continued to buzz excitedly about all of the different accomodations for the Heads dormitory. Hermione shook her head, laughing softly to herself. People were just so _gullible _it was ridiculous! They would believe anything they heard! Hermione was so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely heard Harry whisper next to her, his voice barely audible over their unconvinced peers.

"Is there anything—well, I _meant_ to say—have you seen anything about my parents?" Hermione had the sudden urge to tell him about the picture but suppressedit quickly, recalling the agreement she had made the night before. She knew that if she told Harry about the picture he would want to see it and she couldn't bring herself to break the oath _already_. It had only been a _day _for crying out loud. _I'll tell him about it eventually_, Hermione assured herself, ignoring the guilt weighing heavily in her stomach. _For now though, I have to keep my promise to Malfoy_. With a forced smile of sympathy, Hermione shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry Harry—I didn't see anything about them," Hermione apologized, feeling even worse when the optimism in Harry's eyes faded to a disconsolate dreariness.

"It's okay Mione, I was just thinking that maybe there was something up there," he said, his tone decidedly more morose than it had beenjust moments earlier.

"Besides," Hermione continued, raising hervoiceso that it carried over the rest of the table, "I don't think we're even allowed to have people inour common room anyway. Something about inviolability for the Heads." At her peers' disappointed looks, Hermione felt the guiltchurn painfully in her stomach. She hated lying, especially to her friends andclassmates.Hermione suddenly lost all trace of an appetite and regarded her full plate with indifference. It wasn't so much that she had just lied to her best friends. It was that she had just lied toher best friends.

For _Malfoy. _


	5. Trahimur omnes laudis studio

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five:** _Trahimur omnes laudis studio_ (We are all led on by our eagerness for praise.) (Cicero)

_He who fights with monsters should take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you._

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Two months into the school year and Hermione was already terrifically bored.

It had taken no time at all for Hermione to fall into a routine and it had taken even _less _time for her to become completely bored with it. It was Saturday night and with her rounds already out of the way, and her friends confined to their rooms for the night, Hermione found herself at a loss for something to do. Her homework was done—the product of an efficient morning—and the prospect of spending a night on the couch reading seemed dismal and uneventful, even for Hermione.

The truth was that Hermione had found her seventh year less than exciting. She rarely saw her friends, save for classes, due to Quidditch practices (for them) and Head duties (for her). Her days had become one long monotonous routine and it hadn't taken long at all for her to grow somnolent of its predictability. During the week, things weren't so bad, as she had classes and homework to keep her busy. She could work all day and collapse tiredly into bed each night with the satisfying feeling of accomplishment to keep her going. The problem however was the weekends. As Head Girl, she was often given a list of tasks to complete, for which she was eternally thankful. Once that was finished however, she often had more free time than she knew what to do with. She finished most of her homework on Friday nights and whatever was left over was always completed by Saturday morning. Then, she started on her list of duties, which was usually concluded by late afternoon. With her friends busy with Quidditch, it often left Hermione with a heap of free time of which she barely knew how to handle anymore. At first, she was content to read quietly from the bookshelf in her common room, as it provided much more of a selection than the Gryffindor common room—which was really saying something. But after two months of the same thing, Hermione was beginning to feel the ennui to this plan. So, with nothing to do and no one to hang out with, Hermione resigned to wander the hallways, running through her rounds one more time, just to make sure all meandering students were safely in their common rooms.

As Hermione made her way down the deserted hallways, half expecting to die of boredom, she came to the banal conclusion that walking down a derelict hallway wasn't much better than sitting alone in the common room with a book. _This is absolutely ridiculous_, Hermione decided silently, _I should be able to find something better to do than walking alone through the hallways! _As much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to lament her position as Head Girl. It wasn't nearly as exciting as she had anticipated, and, she realized, she had worried away her entire summer. _I could have been spending time with my friends instead of fretting over possibilities and responsibilities_, Hermione noted forlornly. She never realized how much she valued her friends company—even when they were keeping her from her homework or studies to engage in some harebrained action plot—until she was suddenly taken out of her element and placed in the Heads common room. She had even come to value her chats with Draco, however infrequent they were, as he was usually occupied with his own list of duties or Quidditch practice for Slytherin. _Oh this is just useless_, Hermione concluded as she glanced down yet another empty hallway, deciding to head straight back to her common room. _Even Malfoy's company is better than _thisHermione had just turned to head back when she ran straight into a dark figure, eliciting an uncharacteristic shriek from the normally-serene Head Girl.

"Oh honestly Granger, can you at least _try _and compose yourself?" Simpered Draco, stepping out of the shadows and into the weak illumination of the hall lanterns.

"What in the seven circles of hell do you think you were _doing_ creeping around like that Malfoy?" Hermione shrieked, her voice still several octaves above her normal tenor. She was still shaking from the shock of Malfoy's sudden appearance and had yet to convalesce completely. He sighed heavily, leaning against the stone wall, an air of indifference cloaking his form.

"Well, if you had been paying _any _attention whatsoever, you would _know _that there was absolutely no 'creeping' about it. I've been chasing you for the past _three _hallways!" Hermione paused, staring at Draco skeptically in an attempt to essay his intentions.

"Why?" She pondered dubiously. Draco shrugged.

"I was coming back from Quidditch practice and I saw you walking all alone—I figured it was better that _I _find you instead of some other student who would undoubtedly wonder why the Head Girl was acting absolutely nutty."

"I was _not _acting nutty—I was doing my duty as Head Girl!" Hermione defended. Draco raised an eyebrow and Hermione was instantly grateful for the darkness, as it was conducive in hiding her red cheeks.

"Right—just doing your _duty_, Granger. You _do _know that it is an hour past curfew and you've already _done _your rounds?" Draco pointed out. Now it was Hermione's turn to be accusatory.

"Wait—it _is _an hour past curfew isn't it? What were you doing out so late?" She demanded, folding her arms exultantly over her chest. Draco, nonplussed, shrugged.

"I told you—I was practicing with the team."

"Don't give me that Malfoy—I sent the last of your cronies off to their commons an _hour_ ago. There was no way you smuggled an entire _team _out there without my noticing," Hermione concluded.

"So I didn't have the whole team out there—but do you doubt that I was on the Quidditch pitch?" Draco tested; spreading his arms out so Hermione could take in his appearance. She glanced him up and down quickly, noting his mussed clothes and tousled hair. He definitely looked as if he had been working out _somewhere_. Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Okay Malfoy, who was it?" Draco blushed, grateful for the shadows. _Am I really that transparent_, he wondered but shook it off. It _was _Granger after all. She was always surprising him with her convoluted observations. It was no wonder Potter and Weasley liked her—she probably got them out of most of their scrapes simply with her deductive skills.

"Daphne Greengrass," Draco admitted in defeat, watching Hermione for a reaction. She scrunched her nose, recalling the girl with disfavor.

"Daphne _Greengrass_?" She repeated, "Come now Malfoy, even _you _could do better than _that_."

"Jealous?" Draco wondered and Hermione shrugged.

"Gather ye rosebuds," she said coolly, and at Draco's confused glance she decided to elaborate. "I'm just surprised that you and _Daphne _decided to get together."

"Why? She's a Slytherin _and _a pureblood—what more do you need?" Draco wondered, falling into step alongside Hermione who had started walking back towards their common room.

"Is that _all _that matters to you Malfoy—_lineage_?" Hermione wondered aloud, the aggravation in her voice evident. Draco smirked, peering at Hermione.

"Why—do _you_ want a chance Granger? I usually go with purebloods but I have been known to make a few exceptions."

"Your ego never fails to amaze me. You'd think being that top-heavy would make it hard to get around. I almost pity you," Hermione shot back dryly.

"Aw, Granger—I didn't know you cared," Draco drawled impassively, matching Hermione's tone.

"Don't be cute Malfoy," Hermione snapped irritably, tucking a piece of her wild mane behind her ear. Draco watched her, a simper falling across his pale features.

"I can't help it Granger—it's a blessing and a curse," Draco shrugged cockily, a brash grin spread across his features.

"I'll tell you what's a curse—having _you _as Head Boy," Hermione snapped but her tone lacked any indication of ire and Draco found himself smiling back at her.

"Well, having Miss I-can-never-leave-anything-alone, you aren't the _ideal _partner either," Draco offered up. Hermione was about to offer back a rejoinder of her own but found, to her surprise, that they had already reached the entrance to their common room and Malfoy was waiting for her to follow him through. "Coming Granger?" He wondered tiredly, keeping the opening clear for her. She stepped in, brushing past him with a sudden feeling of shyness.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione said suddenly, unnerved by the jollity of the conversation.

"Was that an invitation Granger?" Draco teased. Hermione paused, as if considering it.

"Sorry Malfoy—still not a pureblood, and you're still a curse." Walking in to her room, Hermione was surprised to find that she was smiling.

Saturday night was turning out better than she had anticipated.

* * *

**Authoress' Note:** I will be gone until Saturday, but I will update as soon as I return. Thank you!

* * *

Sources: 

"Gather ye rosebuds" is the beginning to Robert Herrick's poem below...

To the Virgins,  
Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,  
Old time is still a-flying,  
And this same flower that smiles today,  
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,  
The higher he's a-getting,  
The sooner will his race be run,  
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,  
When youth and blood are warmer;  
But being spent, the worse and worst  
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,  
and while ye may, go marry;  
For having lost just once your prime,  
You may for ever tarry.

-ROBERT HERRICK  
1591-1674


	6. Variatio delectat

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Six: **_Variatio delectat_ (There's nothing like change!) (Cicero)

_"Desire is a tyrannical master" _

-Socrates

"Where have you _been_? I've been looking around for you for two _hours_!"

Hermione towered lividly over Draco who was napping lightly on the common room couch, his brawny limbs stretched out across the divan. She had stormed through the castle for the better part of the morning in search of her blond haired counterpart, only to be informed (rather rudely) by one of his cronies that he had retired to the common room after Quidditch practice. It was for that reason that, when Hermione entered the dorm to find Draco sprawled out devil-may-care on their couch, she felt absolutely furious.

Draco, for his part barely peeked an eye open at her tirade, only slightly disturbed by her latest harangue. He was after all quite used to these types of greetings, not only from Hermione but from many of his classmates and professor's in general. He was a little put out by her petulance but recovered quickly, far from disconcerted by her candor.

"Bloody hell Granger—how's a guy supposed to get some _rest _with you storming around like a pack of mountain trolls?" Draco cursed, righting himself on the couch so that his feet were now on the floor. Hermione's eyes squinted irately but Draco either didn't notice or didn't care as he went about picking invisible pieces of hair and dirt off of his wrinkled robes.

"Malfoy!" Hermione whined, fighting off the urge to stomp her foot. She felt silly enough already—scolding Malfoy like she was his mother. She didn't want to appear any more ridiculous than was absolutely necessary. "Where have you _been_?"

"Relax Granger—I've been right here. No need to get your panties in a bunch," Draco laughed, cringing under Hermione's heated glare. When he noticed that her anger was nowhere _near _fading, he sighed. "What are you on about now?"

"You hexed someone!" She accused hotly, crossing her arms across her chest and trying to ignore the self-satisfied smirk that graced Draco's smart features.

"So?" Draco said tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

"You hexed someone and you aren't the least bit sorry! I can't _believe _you! Here I thought you had changed and you were finally acting mature and taking your job seriously, and I come to find out that you are still the egotistical git you've always been!" Draco, for his part, looked confused by Hermione's indictment and leaned back against the couch resignedly.

"Gods Granger—do you think you can tone it down a bit? I think they heard you in the _dungeons_," Draco began with a sigh. "Now, what are you going on about?"

"You _hexed _someone Malfoy! You! The _Head Boy_! This reflects badly on the _both _of us! I can't believe you would do something so incredibly _dense_!" Hermione continued hotly, although Draco noted that her voice had decreased slightly in volume.

"Oh relax Granger—you'll still be the Golden Girl of Gryffindor. It wasn't anything big anyways, just a harmless joke."

"A joke? A _joke_? How can you say that Malfoy! You _hexed_ someone! That's grounds for expulsion!" Hermione went on, ignoring the Golden Girl comment. Draco looked bored.

"Calm down—it was just a simple little thing. The boy will be fine. And it isn't like I hexed your precious Potter or one of the Weasels. It was a Slytherin, I _promise_," Draco guaranteed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"That doesn't make any difference. That poor boy has green _skin_! He looks like a lizard! Can you imagine how traumatizing that could be to him? He's only a sixth year!"

"I assure you Granger that I only gave him what he deserved. He may _physically _be a sixth year, but he has the mind of someone _much _older." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Since when are you Mr. Virtue?" She demanded, looking skeptically at her counterpart.

"I don't know what you're going on about Granger. Honestly, I'm surprised you aren't more impressed—it was a pretty tricky spell to come by." Hermione's mouth dropped into a little "o" of surprise.

"You hexed someone and you're bloody _proud _of it! You would think the fact that you may be _expelled _may have put a damper on your carefree mood, but oh no—you're acting as if this is the best day ever!" Draco smirked.

"Every day above ground is a good day, Granger," he noted prosaically. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"How charming—is that the Malfoy family motto? Honestly, you are absolutely intolerable!"

"You're the one going batty over a simple confrontation. I'm surprised St. Mungo's hasn't come by yet looking for you."

"Me? I'm not the one who goes around turning people _green_!"

"I already told you Granger, it was just a simple thing. I may have acted a little impetuously, but it was nothing to get worked up over. Haven't _you _ever done something rash?" Hermione shook her head vigorously, her thick tresses breaking free of her elastic and falling loosely around her shoulders.

"Of course not. I always think carefully before acting rashly." Draco, caught up in the sudden flurry of hair, merely nodded.

"Sound advice." He supplied finally, turning back to face Hermione.

"I like to think so."

"I'm sure you were thinking _quite _carefully during all your altercations with Voldemort—heaven forbid you do something _impulsive_." Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked towards Draco.

"Those were all spur-of-the-moment situations. There wasn't any _time _for planning things out. Besides, I am perfectly capable of being _impulsive _when I want to be. I just prefer to act lucidly when I can."

"Oh yes Granger, _you _are Miss Spontaneous. That's rich."

"At least I'm not running around hexing people and making everyone _hate _me! Careful Malfoy, if you drink too much from the bottle marked 'poison' it's bound to catch up with you sooner or later!" Draco squinted in confusion.

"Must you speak in riddles _all _the time Granger? Gods, it takes a bloody Auror to make out what you're talking about!"

"Oh bugger off Malfoy—honestly; I don't know how you've managed to stay alive this long without someone trying to _kill _you in your sleep!" Hermione spat through gritted teeth. He was just so _infuriating _that she could barely stand to speak to him. She couldn't begin to understand how she had thought that he had matured. He was still the same ferret who had tormented her throughout her entire academic career at Hogwarts.

"Contrary to what you may _think _Granger, _most _people don't spend every year dodging _death _threats and dark lords. _Some _of us live perfectly normal lives."

"Oh yes, because hanging out at Deatheater parties and being inducted into some evil cult before you reach adulthood is _completely_ normal." Hermione didn't know how she expected Draco to react, but she couldn't help feeling surprised when he laughed a little, the unexpected gaiety throwing Hermione slightly off-kilter.

"I wouldn't call them _parties_ Granger. If anything they're more of solemn business meetings." Hermione felt a new wave of shock well up in her chest but it dissolved quickly when she noticed a sardonic leer fall across Draco's countenance.

"You are absolutely incorrigible," Hermione muttered, walking past him towards her room. She could feel his gaze following her across the common room to the door of her bedroom. It was unsettling, having him watch her like that. What was even more unsettling to Hermione was that she _liked _it.

* * *

Hermione walked down the hallway towards her friends, delighting in the sharp _click _of her shoes against the cobblestones of the corridor. She was surrounded by other students but she didn't seem to notice, deftly shifting through a million fractions of conversation towards her friends who were congregated near the end of the hallway.

"Ginny!" She called out, stepping up her stride, "Harry! Ron!" The group paused, turning to stare at Hermione who jogged the last little bit of the distance to catch up with them. "Hey—I've been following you guys since the transfiguration room!" The group had the decency to look embarrassed as they rushed to explain.

"Sorry Hermione—we were talking about the upcoming Quidditch game. Gryffindor against Slytherin—the first one of the year," Ginny explicated brightly, brushing back a shock of red hair. Harry nodded, eager to add his own part.

"Yeah Hermione—it should be _enormous_. I mean, even the students who don't_ like_ Quidditch are coming! You should hear the commotion about it!" Hermione shifted her books to the other arm, staring curiously at her friends.

"Why—what's so big about it?" She asked, feeling increasingly dense as her friend's eyes widened in horror.

"You mean you don't even_know_?" Ron demanded as if she had just spoken some kind of blasphemy.

"No—what are you lot talking about?" Hermione pressed, eager to find out what all of the hubbub was about.

"Harry is the captain of the Gryffindor team—Malfoy is the captain of the Slytherin team. It's their seventh year—this is one of the final showdowns between them! The entire school is going to show up!" Ron explained rather loudly, waving his arms excitedly. Hermione wrinkled her brow.

"Malfoy's the captain of the Slytherin team?" She wondered aloud, much to Ron's dismay.

"_Yes _Hermione—were you paying any attention at _all_? This is going to be one of the biggest events of the _year_! It's a metaphorical battle between good and evil!" Hermione stared at her friends with obvious skepticism. _Did Ron just use the word 'metaphorically', _she wondered to herself, quickly shaking the thought from her head. There were bigger things to worry about.

"Honestly, you make it sound as if Harry and Voldemort are going to have a showdown right there on the Quidditch pitch. Why you lot insist on making things so _theatrical _I'll never know." Harry, usually the one Hermione could count on to be sane, shook his head, turning to Hermione with wide eyes.

"Hermione—don't you get it? It _will _be like that! Not with Voldemort of course, but I might as well! Malfoy is like the next in line for the throne of the dark lord!" Hermione laughed out loud at her friends' pettiness, disgusted at their ignorance despite the fact that she had accused him of the same thing the night before.

"Malfoy is _not _evil," Hermione clarified, oblivious to the horrified expressions of her friends. "A little _arrogant _yes, but not evil. I don't know why you three insist on raising him up like he's some sort of _monster_."

"Hermione—he has you brainwashed doesn't he? He put some sort of curse on you! Oh I knew it wasn't safe to let you be with him for so long!" Ron cried, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders as if to shake the alleged "curse" from her body. Hermione stepped back, shaking Ron off.

"Don't be daft—he hasn't _cursed _me at all. I just think that you three should try and give him a break. He isn't as bad as all that."

"Hermione—I _saw _him with Snape last year! I _saw _him almost _kill _Dumbledore! He admitted to being in cahoots with Voldemort himself! How can you say he isn't evil!" Harry demanded, ruffling his hair in confusion. Hermione shrugged, glancing to Ginny for help. Ginny looked at her curiously as if trying to figure something out for herself.

"Harry—I know he must have seemed horrible then, but do you think that McGonagall would have allowed him back—much less named him Head Boy—if that was all there was to the story? He can't be all bad if McGonagall—who has _never _liked him—would readmit him _and _name him Head Boy." Harry and Ginny seemed to consider this carefully but Ron had turned redder by the word and now looked ready to burst.

"Hermione—I can't _believe _what I'm hearing! What has he done to you? Next thing you know you'll be getting matching Deatheater tattoos and joining leagues with him!" Ron cried incredulously. Hermione sighed.

"Honestly Ron—you're acting absolutely ridiculous!" She chided sternly, watching as Ginny tapped her brother on the shoulder.

"Ron—you should be getting to class. You've already been late several times this week and if you keep it up, you won't be able to go to the game at _all_," she reminded him gently, leading him away. He turned one last time, casting an astute glare at Hermione.

"All I'm saying is that you better be at that game Hermione, and you better be rooting for the right team," he called grouchily, storming away. Harry followed, casting a somewhat-more sympathetic glance towards his friend. Ginny was the last to leave, smiling crookedly towards Hermione, as if seeing her best friend for the first time in a _long_ time.

"I'll see you later," she promised, calling after her brother in an attempt to calm him down. Hermione watched as her friends walked away, a nagging query poking at her brain.

Had she just _defended _Malfoy?

Damn.

* * *

Sources: 

"If you drink too much from a bottle marked 'poison'…." Is from Alice in Wonderland (As said by Alice)

"I think carefully before acting rashly….Sound advice." Is from Alice in Wonderland (As said by Alice to the Queen of Hearts)

"Every day above ground is a good day." Is from _Scarface_


	7. Sobria inebrietas

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Seven: _Sobria inebrietas_ (Sober intoxication)

_"Yet each man kills the thing he loves,_

_By each let this be heard, _

_Some do it with a bitter look, _

_Some with a flattering word..."_

-Unknown

"Something is wrong with Hermione."

Ginny was surprised by the conviction in her older brother's tone as he voiced his latest complaint against their frequently-absent friend. She was even more surprised though when Harry joined in on Ron's harangue with a condemnation of his own.

"I agree—she's been completely batty this year." Ginny sighed, slamming down her book. This was really too much. She could stand them being _confused _regarding Hermione's recent behavior—they were _boys _after all—but it was another thing entirely for them to openly denigrate her in Ginny's presence.

"You guys are being too harsh on Hermione—she just has other obligations and duties right now," Ginny offered in a tone that clarified she was in no mood to argue about it. Unfortunately, Harry and Ron seemed oblivious to her straightforward pitch and continued on neglectfully.

"I don't think one of her new _duties _is to stand up for _Malfoy_," Ron snapped, a deep gloom falling over his furrowed brow. "She acts as if he's some sort of _god _or something."

"Don't be ridiculous, she does nothing of the sort," Ginny snapped, her intolerance towards her brother reaching a head, "she simply mentioned to you two that he wasn't the _monster _you were both making him out to be."

"She spends all her time with him now though. She never _used _to do that," Harry pointed out tetchily, crossing his arms sullenly over his chest. Ginny sighed. Honestly—they could be so _dense _sometimes. It was absolutely ridiculous.

"She _has _to—she _works _with him. Besides, we haven't been making much time for her lately either. What with all our Quidditch practice—honestly Harry, you're more and more like Oliver Wood each _week_. Pretty soon you'll be scheduling practices at _midnight_," Ginny pointed out, staring crossly at her friend.

"We _will _be practicing at midnight if _Malfoy _has anything to say about it. He keeps changing the bloody schedule to whenever it fits his agenda! I can barely keep the practice times straight! It's not fair that he can kick us off the pitch whenever he bloody feels like it!" Harry pouted, making him the perfect imitation of someone _many _years his junior. Ron rushed to agree.

"I _tried_ to tell Hermione that and you know what she told me? She said that I had to work it out with _Malfoy_! Can you imagine that! She thinks just because _she _fancies chatting with the git that all of _us _do too!" Ginny sighed, pushing her hair back from her face. If either of the boys had taken the time to look at the fuming red head they would have noticed that she was clearly in no mood to be discussing the topic at hand, but since neither of them seemed to notice, they were left predisposed to Ginny's rage.

"She only told you to talk to Malfoy about it because she doesn't _handle _that sort of thing! I don't know if either of you have noticed in the past seven years, but Hermione has never _once _shown any _inkling _of interest in Quidditch and has only gone to the games to support _you _two—god only knows why since you are both too incredibly _dense _to notice! You keep complaining that she doesn't spend any time with you guys, but that's only because you two haven't made any attempts to hang out with _her_! All you talk about is bloody Quidditch! Even _I _get sick of it!" Ginny's face was redder than her hair and her breathing was labored but she didn't care. The satisfaction she got from the stricken looks of the boys faces was payment enough.

"Gods Ginny—you didn't have to get so _mad_. You're as bad as a Howler," Ron whined, although a definitive edge was lacking from his tone. Harry too seemed cowed by Ginny's rant and made no attempts to hide his injured features.

"Do you really get sick of it?" He asked in such a pitiable tone that Ginny couldn't help feeling a tiny bit bad. She sighed, shaking her head.

"No, I guess I don't really get _that _sick of it. I just get sick of you two blaming all your problems on Hermione," she admitted, turning to look over to the portrait hole that had just swung open. "Hermione!" She greeted cheerfully, surprised by her friend's sudden appearance.

Hermione stepped into the common room, her eyes scanning for her best friends. They were, as predicted, seated around the fireplace, and looked as though they were involved in some sort of heated discussion. Her presence, she noted, hardly seemed welcome except by Ginny who looked instantly relieved to have someone to hold onto.

"Hermione, how have you _been_?" Ginny squealed, her voice several octaves off pitch. Hermione looked slightly unnerved, as if unprepared for her friend's uncharacteristic outburst, but smiled slightly nonetheless.

"I've been fine—a little overworked, but I guess that's normal," Hermione supposed, wrinkling her brow in confusion. Ginny laughed suddenly, fidgeting nervously.

"I was just thinking that we should do something—_together_. The four of us haven't hung out in _ages_. It would be nice," Ginny decided, struggling to regain more of her composure. Hermione's unexpected arrival had startled her more than she cared to let on and instantly felt flushed as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"I was thinking the same thing—as soon as you three get a free moment from Quidditch you should tell me and then we can plan something. I hear there's a Hogsmeade trip this weekend after the big game—what about it?" Hermione offered, appealing to Harry and Ron who had yet to properly acknowledge her presence. While Ginny nodded enthusiastically at the proposal, Harry and Ron merely shrugged, their egos still bruised and hurting from Ginny's scolding.

"It _would _be a decent way to celebrate," Ron admitted finally, perking up slightly at the thought. Harry shrugged amiably.

"And we haven't really had time to spend with eachother lately. It would be nice," he offered up, growing fonder of the idea with each passing second. They would be able to hang out like they used to—the golden trio (plus Ginny of course) together again. It was sure not to disappoint.

"It's a date then," Hermione chirped brightly, pleased that she had finally managed a talk with her friends that didn't end poorly. Ginny smiled, obviously as pleased with the outcome as Hermione seemed to be. If this didn't amend the boys' view of Hermione and their friendship, she didn't know _what _would.

* * *

Hermione stepped into her common room a half hour later, torn over who to root for at the Quidditch game. In all honesty, she had been fretting over the game ever since Ron and Harry had so _loudly _informed her of its popularity. She knew that, like always, she _should_ root for Gryffindor. _Why wouldn't I_, she wondered to herself, _it _is_ my house for crying out loud—it's where all of my friends are_! Still, she couldn't be sure. She couldn't seem shake the feeling that was nagging at her though. The feeling that even if she was rooting for Gryffindor, she would be seeking out a certain Slytherin player. _Don't be daft Hermione, that's absolutely ridiculous. You must have been studying too much lately—that trip to Hogsmeade should do you loads of good_, Hermione assured herself. She wasn't completely comforted though. She could remember back to the beginning of the year when the idea of sharing a room with Malfoy had been the worst punishment she could have imagined. Now though, she didn't view it with such abjectness. Sure Malfoy tended to get on her nerves, but she couldn't deny the fact that he was actual good company when he wanted to be. Unlike her own friends whose interest in Quidditch had reached obsessive proportions, Malfoy could often carry on a conversation that _didn't _involve his latest playing strategies or configurations.

_The only reason you are even thinking this way is because of his sheer accessibility_, Hermione told herself and hoped that it was true. Although he would never be able to measure up to her own huddle of friends, he made a delightful substitute—especially as he was always around whenever they were off practicing. He had even listened to her concern about the fluctuating practice schedules he seemed to keep and had made a conscious effort to rectify them. That had to mean _something _didn't it? Hermione wasn't sure, but seemed determined to figure it all out. Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans as she was practically assaulted by her male foil the instant she stepped through the portrait hole.

"Thank gods you're here Granger, I've been going absolutely nutty," Malfoy said by way of greeting, grabbing Hermione by the arm and pulling her inside. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts regarding the big game that she was caught completely off guard by her equivalent.

"What are you still doing here Malfoy? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for the game?" Hermione wondered, ignoring all of the quick retorts she could have made concerning Malfoy's latest remark.

"Yes of _course _I'm supposed to be down on the pitch—I'm bloody _captain _Granger—what do you think?" Draco snapped crossly, dropping to his stomach and peering fretfully under the couch. Hermione frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. Maybe it _wouldn't _be so much of a challenge deciding who to cheer for.

"Well you don't have to act like a complete _arse _about it," Hermione grumbled, noting the panicked look in Draco's normally-cool irises. She softened immediately, going to overturn one of the couch cushions. It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked so upset. "What are we looking for anyways?" Draco sighed, getting to his feet.

"My playing robes—I can't find them," Draco admitted, cursing under his breath. "I told the bloody house elves how important they were and now I can't find them _anywhere_." Hermione sighed, righting the cushions when her searchproved unrewarding.

"Don't assume it's the house elves," she chided lightly, ignoring the pointed glare from Malfoy who looked to be at the end of his rope, "Maybe if you didn't _insist _that they wash all of your clothes then maybe—,"

"Oh come off it Granger—they wash _everyone's _clothes. It's their _job_," Draco snapped, then, after a brief consideration, rolled his eyes. "Well, everyone's clothes but _yours _I suppose."

"If everyone did the same then they would be able to go and pursue what they _want _to do instead of being forced into ignorance," Hermione snapped before she could stop herself. Draco however seemed annoyed by her observation and made a face before kicking the leg of the couch.

"Damnit Granger—can you stop playing bloody savior for a second and _help _me?" He snapped but his tone was clearly more pleading than angry and prompted Hermione to carry on searching, biting back her homily regarding unfair working conditions for older house elves.

"Have you searched your room?" Hermione asked, staring blankly at the upset commons. It was a disaster—something she knew she would have to remedy before her planned trip to Hogsmeade—but at the moment she didn't care. All that mattered was that Draco was quickly coming undone at the prospect of forfeiting the much-anticipated game due to lack of proper dress.

"Yes, I've looked in my room. Look again if you don't believe me," Draco said, disappearing once more behind the couch. Hermione sighed, heading towards the direction of his room—a place she had vowed she would never enter, under any circumstance. _Oh come on, _Hermione scolded herself, _it's not as if you're going in to engage in some Deatheater ritual—you're helping your co-Head_! Still, Hermione found herself pausing at the doorknob and had to force herself inside.

What Hermione found was not too dissimilar to the commons. Draco hadn't been lying—his room was completely torn apart, with various books and belongings littering the floor in such a way that it made it nearly impossible to find _anything_, much less a robe that undoubtedly matched the definite color scheme of the Slytherin boy's room. _Does he have enough silver and green_, Hermione wondered silently, picking her way through the clothes heaps and upset bedding. Despite the clutter though, Hermione couldn't help noticing how nice everything was. It seemed that the Slytherin had had every right to brag about his wealth—even the tiniest quills reeked of affluence, proudly bearing the Malfoy family insignia. _At least I know that his father's stint in Azkaban hasn't altered his lifestyle too much_, Hermione thought, raising her eyebrows at a sock with silver embroidery, spelling out Draco's full name. If the tone of the afternoon had been different, she may have pulled it out as a joke, but Draco's current mood prompted her to discard the gauche article and continue her search.

"Find anything Granger?" Draco called from the commons, his voice muffled as if he were pressed into a tight spot—something Hermione did not entirely doubt. He _was _acting rather desperate, and she didn't know _what _he was capable of in that type of debilitated state.

"Not yet—," Hermione began, halting her speech suddenly when an olive-colored garment caught her eye. It was trapped below the bedside table but the fabric and color were unmistakable. "Yes—yes I think I have it!" Hermione called out, tearing the surprisingly-heavy robe from its entrapment. A sudden crash alerted her that Draco was on his way, making his abrupt appearance in the doorway no surprise at all. For a second he merely stared, wide-eyed at Hermione who was still holding the sacred piece of clothing, as if unwilling to believe his luck. Then, in one swift movement he had closed the distance between them and had pulled Hermione into a rough embrace.

"Thanks Granger—I don't know what I would have done without you," he whispered into Hermione's hair before pulling away. "I'll see you down at the Quidditch pitch then?" He asked, pausing at the doorway. Hermione, who had been frozen since the contact, forced herself to swallow, reacquainting her senses into a functioning state.

"Yeah—I'll be there," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. Draco smiled suddenly, running a nervous hand through his platinum hair.

"Right then, I should be going—thanks again Hermione," he murmured, turning and fleeing from both his bedroom and the commons. For a minute Hermione stood, frozen in her spot. Had Malfoy just _hugged _her? And worst of all, had she actually _enjoyed _it? Even she couldn't deny the way her skin tingled from the contact and the infuriating way her cheeks were burning crimson. _I was just hugged by Malfoy—and I enjoyed it_! The thought was almost too much to bear, especially when Hermione pictured Harry and Ron's faces when—_if_—they ever found out. Forcing herself out of her trance, Hermione walked from Malfoy's bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind her. It was only then that she realized what else Malfoy had said. _Hermione_. He had called her by her name—not her last name and not some insulting name he had made up to make her cringe. He had called her _Hermione_, and in such a way that Hermione was suddenly eager to hear it cross his lips once more. Did he know what he did to her? She doubted it. Turning to gather her coat, Hermione prepared to head down to the Quidditch pitch. _Oh hell._

And she had thought choosing a side _before _was going to be hard.


	8. Non est ei similis

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

Chapter Eight:_**Non est ei similis**_ (There is no one like him)

"_To truly understand another human being, you must gain some insight into the condition which made him what he is."_

–unknown

"Hermione! Over here!"

Hermione smiled, following the squealing voice of Parvati and Lavender who were eagerly waving her over to their seat in the bleachers. They were both huddled together already, pointing and giggling at the players on the pitch.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Hermione asked, more out of politeness than anything else. She knew that the girls would never turn her away, but she often felt the need to ask to be included in their twosome—especially after the whole "Won-Won" situation of the previous year. Hermione, who had always had an easier time reading books than girls, was never sure if _she _had been paramount in the whole break up and often wondered how her presence was received around Lavender. Thankfully though, Lavender and Parvati seemed to have forgotten any possible past transgressions and greeted her with open arms, scooting over to clear a space for her.

"Of course Hermione—we didn't know whether or not you would even _be _here!" Lavender squealed in a voice that prompted Hermione to cover her ears, an action that she thankfully caught before actually engaging in.

"Oh, well, there was so much hype around it that I figured I would check it out," Hermione explained lightly, taking the proffered seat next to Lavender who smiled widely.

"Yes, I suppose the entire _school _has come to see what will happen," she noted, glancing around at the burgeoning stands. Hermione had to agree—there didn't seem to be an empty seat in the entire stadium. It reminded her vaguely of the Quidditch World Cup where there had been so many people Hermione had constantly feared she would be separated forever from Ron and Harry.

"It's a little ridiculous though," Hermione began softly, "the whole Harry-versus-Malfoy thing. I mean, don't you two ever think it's gone a little too far?" To her dismay, Lavender and Parvati shook their heads in unison, their eyes growing simultaneously wider.

"Oh no Hermione—this is like the final fight," Parvati whispered, echoing the familiar sentiments that Hermione had been hearing all week. She wished suddenly she had sat with the Ravenclaws—or at least with someone a little less die-hard than her current seatmates seemed to be. She didn't even bother correcting this statement as she had with her friends, knowing all logic would be lost on the two stupid girls.

"It's like physical representations of good and evil fighting out there," Lavender added and Hermione had to force herself to check her surprise at the multiple-syllabled words coming out of her peer's mouth.

"Have things started yet?" Hermione asked aloud, hoping to defer the subject to something a bit more neutral. Lavender and Parvati gave her matching looks of skepticism.

"Hermione—the players are just starting to take the field," Parvati noted, pointing down towards the pitch where the two distinctly-colored teams were just beginning to swirl around, performing cockily for the crowd before rushing to their positions to signal the commencement of the game. "Honestly, you act as though you've never been to a Quidditch match before."

"I guess the crowd is just confusing me a bit," Hermione offered by way of explanation, sitting back to try and avoid further conversation with the girls who seemed content to whisper amongst themselves.

Turning away from the two girls, Hermione focused her attention on the Quidditch pitch, where both teams had finally congregated and were urging the start of the game. Hermione watched as Harry and Malfoy, as captains, shook hands (rather fiercely, she noted) and then as Madame Hooch entered the pitch, her signature whistle in hand.

"Alright boys and girls—I want a good, clean fight. Don't think I haven't heard all the absurd buildup to this game, and don't think I won't eliminate you from the game if I see _anything_ out of the rules of the game. There are seven hundred different fouls and I'm prepared to call every single one of them." Then, with a final pointed glare to each of the teams, she threw the ball and blew her whistle, signaling the beginning of the game.

If Hermione had ever harbored any doubts regarding the intensity of the game, she was quickly assured that all the buildup had _not _been merely talk. In the first twenty minutes two Slytherins and one Gryffindor had been replaced for foul play and the injuries pertaining to their fouls. The Slytherins it seemed were out for blood and beating ruthlessly on any of the Gryffindors that came near them. The Gryffindors however, not to be outdone, seemed to jump into the fighting with vigor, earning themselves numerous black eyes and sore ribs.

Hermione watched the play with such a deep fascination that it even led Lavender and Parvati to speculate her motives. It was no secret that Hermione was no fan of the game and her sudden interest was obviously more than just wanting to see whether or not "good" or "evil" would win.

"I'm just worried about Harry the others—I don't want anyone to get hurt over such a silly feud," Hermione explained quickly to Lavender's pointed questions.

"Harry won't get hurt," Parvati offered boldly, "it's the Slytherins you should worry about. The Gryffindor team is too good."

"I suppose," Hermione offered flippantly, more to quiet her seatmates than anything else. It worked though and the two girls went back to the burning topic at hand—which beater had the nicer…uh…_form_.

Despite all efforts to the contrary, Hermione found herself actively seeking out her clover-clad counterpart. Not entirely visible at first, Hermione was dismayed to find him making lazy circles near the lower part of the field. While Harry preferred to fly higher, looking down on the game for the tiny golden snitch, Malfoy seemed to take the opposite approach, craning his neck skyward for the elusive game piece. For two boys whose "showdown" had been the featured topic of conversation for the past week, they seemed to be doing a remarkable job of avoiding eachother altogether.

"What's Malfoy doing?" Mandy Brocklehurst, who had joined the group unbeknownst to Hermione, wondered aloud, pointing down at the infamous Slytherin. Hermione, who had been watching him the entire time, blinked suddenly, refocusing her eyes so that the tall boy was perfectly aligned in her vision.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, too unfamiliar with the sport to correctly identify the alleged oddity that Malfoy was performing. Mandy leaned in, pointing to the green form who seemed to be flying lower and lower.

"He's acting funny—why's he flying so low?" Mandy half-explained, rather distractedly. As if to disprove Mandy's observation, Malfoy shot up into the air so rapidly that even Harry seemed startled by his sudden companion in the sky. Malfoy remained elevated for a few minutes before gradually making his awkward descent once more.

"Malfoy, what's going on with you?" Hermione whispered to herself, hoping in vain to catch his eye, if even for a moment. For a few minutes Malfoy continued his rise and fall routine, giving him the likeness of a buoy, floating up and down with the current, and prompting sudden conspiracy theories to crop up amongst the perplexed Gryffindors. Then, Malfoy rose up once more before finally sinking down to the level of action, fading in and out from behind various baffled players.

"Well whatever he's doing—he better watch out," Lavender pointed out loudly, gesturing towards his current position.

"Why?" Hermione asked nervously, trying to figure out the cause of Lavender's concern.

"Because he's about to be bludgered," she noted simply, seconds before the infamous ball came crashing into Draco's head, sending the boy careening down to the pitch below.

"Drink this and you'll be better in just a few days."

Draco looked at the glass of foggy liquid, made a wry face, and shook his head.

"Is it sweet or bitter?" He asked to Madame Pompfrey's chagrin. She sighed, staring at the pale boy lying weakly in the bed below her. Even in such a fragile state he was infuriating, and Madame Pompfrey was beginning to see the truth behind all the stories she had heard about him.

"It's bitter but it's good for you. Drink up," she ordered dryly, pushing the glass towards her latest patient. Draco struggled to sit up slightly, avoiding the glass at all costs.

"If it's bitter I don't want it," he decided, wincing as the latest shock of pain raced through him. Madame Pompfrey sighed, setting the glass firmly on the bedside table and turning to face the boy's latest visitor.

"I'll be back in a few minutes—do you think you could try and get him to drink the medicine?" She asked the bushy-haired Gryffindor, the one visitor who Madame Pompfrey deemed pleasant enough to administer instructions to. Hermione nodded wordlessly, glancing past the healerto Draco who seemed to be suddenly quite interested in his feet, poking out from the sterile white covers. Confident that Hermione would be able to complete what she had not; Madame Pompfrey cast one last contemptuous glance to Draco and walked promptly from the room.

"Drink this," Hermione said firmly, stepping up to Draco's bedside and pushing the ostracized elixir towards him. He ignored her efforts, staring instead to her face.

"Why are you here?" He wanted to know but his tone was not unkind, just questioning, and Hermione felt a blush creep to her cheeks.

"I wanted to see how you were doing—you had quite a nasty fall there," Hermione said finally, pulling up a chair so that she would have something to do other than stand over Draco awkwardly. To her surprise, he smirked and pushed himself upright in bed.

"I broke a lot of bones," he admitted almost boastfully and Hermione forced a smile, if only to amuse him. "But that doesn't explain why you're here."

"I told you—I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Don't be daft Granger—you could have asked someone—Pompfrey, Hooch, even McGonagall. You didn't have to come _down _here." Hermione shrugged awkwardly, fingering the now-sweating glass in her hands.

"I guess I wanted to see for myself—is that a problem?"She asked, raising an eyebrow as if challenging him to defy her. Draco seemed unfazed by the challenge however, merely smiling to himself and leaning back against the pillows. For a minute the duo lapsed into an awkward silence before Hermione remembered Pompfrey's instructions.

"Here—you need to drink this," she reminded him, pushing the glass towards him. He made a face, refusing the mixture.

"I told you—I don't like things that are bitter," he said in such a childish tone that Hermione had to bite back laughter.

"You'll feel much better if you drink it—it will help your bones grow back."

"My bones are absolutely _fine _Granger."

"Well your definition of fine is obviously not the same as mine," Hermione began with a half smile on her face. When Draco's face remained unchanged however, Hermione sighed, taking a more serious approach, "Malfoy—don't be ridiculous. You had a bludger smash _into _your_ face._ Then you fell into the _ground_. There is no way that you are absolutely _fine_," Hermione reasoned, holding out the glass to him. He raised an eyebrow, a smile on his lips.

"You were watching me," he decided, taking the glass from Hermione but still not bringing it to his mouth. Hermione blushed.

"I was watching the _game_," she corrected, glancing to the door to make sure Madame Pompfrey wasn't coming back anytime soon.

"You were watching _me _while I _played _the game," Draco said, smiling devilishly. Hermione shook her head, motioning towards the glass in his hand.

"The longer you wait and make up ridiculous accusations, the worse it will be when you drink it," she reasoned, gesturing at the glass.

"Oh _gods _Granger, I'll drink the bloody medicine," he snapped impatiently, tipping back the cup and draining the liquid with one quick gulp. Hermione sat back in her chair, smiling in a self-satisfied way. "Happy?" He demanded. Hermione nodded.

"Quite."

"Good," Draco said, slamming the now-empty glass on the bedside table. He wiped his mouth and turned to look at Hermione. "Now, what were you saying about watching me play?"

"_I _wasn't saying _anything_ about it. _You _however seemed quite enamored with the idea," Hermione clarified, fingering a loose strand of her hair. Draco shrugged.

"You have to admit that I looked pretty good out there though, right?" Hermione laughed out loud.

"Now, was that before or after you were bludgered to the ground?"

"Aw, come on Granger—I had a nice go there for a while."

"Yeah—bobbing up and down like a bunny on the pitch. Quite the strategy you had there." Draco blushed, shrugging as best he could while his bones struggled to re-grow.

"Was it really as bad as all that?" Hermione shrugged.

"You were looking pretty dippy out there."

"Pompfrey said it was due to the fever." Hermione sat up, surprised.

"You have a fever too? Gods Malfoy, why did you even go out there and play?" Draco paused, considering this, and shrugged finally as if he himself didn't rightly know.

"I guess I just didn't want people to think I had forfeited just to get out of it or something. Besides, I'm the captain of the bloody team—I didn't want everyone to think that I was weaseling out of my duties or something of the like."

"Malfoy—that's absolutely ridiculous. If you were _ill _you should have stayed in! No one would have thought you were shirking out of your duties," Hermione reprimanded lightly. For a minute Draco simply stared at her, his eyes exploring her own.

"Granger," he began softly, "I know I haven't—,"

"Draco!"

Both teens shot apart at the slightly-whining shriek coming from the doorway. Hermione jumped out of her chair, grabbing for the empty glass, if only to give herself something to do. Turning to the doorway, Hermione was surprised to face a shockingly beautiful woman. She was cloaked in beautiful emerald robes that perfectly accentuated her shock of blond hair and cool blue eyes. When she saw Hermione her petite nose crinkled slightly, but she quickly glanced past the girl to her poor convalesced son.

"Oh Darling—what _happened_?" She said in a soothingly melodic tone. Hermione was surprised by the witch's sudden appearance, but even more so from the physical appearance of the woman. She knew Narcissa Malfoy was rumored to be beautiful but she had always assumed it was the icy aristocratic beauty that was only pretty if you had enough money, and while Narcissa seemed to have plenty of _that_ type of beauty, she had another kind as well. Hermione almost thought that if she hadn't spent so many years of her life shackled to Lucius (granted, that too was an assumption about the woman), she may have even been described as gorgeous. It was as if she had an underlying current of true beauty that was aching to break free of her patrician lineage.

"I'm fine Mother," Draco said slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione who had yet to move since Narcissa's unexpected arrival. "It was just a Quidditch accident." Narcissa inhaled sharply as if this was the worst news she had heard in a long time (which may have been true had her husband not been so recently imprisoned).

"Oh Draco Darling—how on _earth_ did this happen? The other boys weren't being too rough out there, were they? Oh, I _told _your father how I felt about you playing that silly sport! He said that no harm would come to you—but _look _at you! You look absolutely _terrible_," Narcissa whined, wringing her hands nervously. Hermione had to smile slightly at the picture of Draco's over-protective mother. Draco however looked positively stricken with embarrassment, his pale cheeks flaming a vibrant red.

"Mother, I can assure you that I am positively _fine_. You shouldn't have troubled yourself," he said lightly, glancing nervously back and forth from his mother to Hermione. He loved his mother but her timing was positively _horrible_.

"Oh Darling, it was no trouble at all. I was worried and I just _had _to see for myself that you were okay. Are they treating you right here? Giving you everything you want?" Narcissa asked sharply, looking around as if to uncover some hidden scheme to injure Draco. "Who are you? Has he been taking his medicine?" She demanded suddenly, turning to Hermione who blanched at the unexpected attention.

"Um, yes m'am," Hermione mumbled, slightly caught off guard. She had yet to become accustomed to Narcissa's apparent habit of asking several questions at once and rarely waiting for an answer. "He drank all of it." She added when she found Narcissa still staring sharply at her.

"Good," Narcissa said sternly, turning back to Draco. "I don't want to hear about you refusing any medicine—your father would have a fit. You're almost grown now Draco, you can't afford to be childish anymore." Draco nodded dolefully, gesturing towards the yet-to-be-recognized Hermione.

"Mother—this is Hermione Granger. She's Head Girl," Draco offered tonelessly, casting attention back to Hermione who moved to straighten out her robes in an attempt to make herself more presentable. For a minute Narcissa merely stared at her, wearing the same contemplative look that Draco sometimes bore when involved in a particularly interesting book or problem. Then, she extended her bejeweled hand in greeting.

"Granger," she said almost thoughtfully, "that name sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?" Behind the two women Draco sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"She's friends with Potter and Weasley," Draco clarified dully, ignoring the way Narcissa suddenly extracted her hand from Hermione's.

"Oh," she said quietly, folding her hands across her chest. It was clear that she was unimpressed by her son's choice of visitor, but thankfully she said nothing about it. _Well at least I know where Draco gets his prejudices_, Hermione thought bitterly as Narcissa turned back to her. "Well then, has my Draco been staying in line this year? Not getting into too much trouble I hope," she said, casting a wry glance towards her son who looked as if he wanted to die.

"He's been the perfect scholar," Hermione said softly, to appease the proud mother more than anything else, although Draco's smirk of approval wasn't a terrible addition to the comment. Narcissa beamed.

"Well, good then." She patted Draco's arm gently, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "I suppose if you really don't need anything I can head back to the manor." She paused, giving Draco ample time to object. When he didn't, she smiled at him once more. "Bye then Darling. I'll see you at the holidays then?" Draco nodded as his mother disappeared as quickly as she had come, leaving the two teens alone once more.

"So," Draco began lightly, at a complete loss for what to say. Hermione smiled.

"So," she mimicked. "_That_ was your mother."

Sources:

The whole medicine/Draco-refusing-to-drink-it scene was loosely based on a scene in Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi

"You definition of fine is obviously different from mine..." Is from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy


	9. Cogitationis poenam nemo patitur

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

**P.S. I know this chapter is short, but more is coming soon!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine:** _Cogitationis poenam nemo patitur_ (Nobody should be punished for his thoughts)

"_Hang on to those you love, even if sometimes it gets too hard to handle."_

–Unknown

"What do you _mean _you aren't going with us?"

Hermione, who had been on her way back to her bedroom in an attempt to catch a bit of sleep, had been entirely caught off guard by her three friends. They had cleaned up from the Quidditch game and had dressed to go out on their planned trip to Hogsmeade—an outing that Hermione had completely forgotten in the disarray of the game.

"I'm really sorry Ron, but I just didn't anticipate Malfoy to get hurt like he did," Hermione explained tiredly, stopping to lean against the wall. She had considered continuing on to her dorm, but she didn't know what she would do if the others followed her up there. She had yet to invite them in, but she knew if they followed her up there and they hadn't concluded their argument that they would want to come in. _It wouldn't be terrible_, Hermione decided, _Malfoy would never know—he's in the hospital wing for the next few days_. Still, Hermione couldn't bring herself to go back on the oath that she had made with her co-Head. So, to avoid the situation altogether, Hermione remained stationed in the hallway, praying that the feud wouldn't last too long or contract too much of an audience. Thankfully, Hermione noted, most of the students had headed off to Hogsmeade after the game and the four in the hallway were about the only ones around.

"_What_?" Ron demanded, his voice in an octave that normally only dogs would be able to hear. "You're not coming to Hogsmeade with us because you're going to spend time with _Malfoy_?"

"Ronald, please calm down. Malfoy is seriously injured and I can't just leave him in the hospital wing all alone," Hermione reasoned, much to Ron and Harry's dismay.

"But _Hermione_," Harry pouted, "we had this planned for the four of us! Malfoy will be fine on his own for a while. It's not like he doesn't have his own friends." Ron nodded in agreement.

"Honestly you two, I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this." Hermione sighed, rubbing her temple in exasperation. She had expected a similar confrontation when she had decided to stay with Malfoy, but she couldn't have anticipated actually being _in _it. "His mother _asked _me to watch him. I told her I would. I can't break a promise to _Narcissa Malfoy_." Her cohorts however looked unimpressed by this detail.

"You met his _mother_? _When_? What are you two—_engaged _or something now?" Ron demanded loudly, startling a bunch of first years that were walking by. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't be daft Ronald—Malfoy and I are just _friends_. His mother came to see him in the hospital wing," she explained, to Ron and Harry's abject horror. Their jaws fell open an equal distance, making them look like matching sucker-fish.

"_Friends_?" Ron demanded hysterically, "Did you just say that you are _friends _with _Malfoy_?" Hermione sighed, her head falling heavily into her hands. "Hermione, that's _treason_! He has turned you against all of us!"

"Ron you sound absolutely batty," Ginny snapped, finally finding her voice in the midst of all the yelling. "And I don't know why you both won't leave Hermione alone. It isn't as if _you _two are bloody _saints _either! You are just jealous that Hermione has made a friend that doesn't involve _you_!" Hermione smiled in silent thanks, grateful to have a moment's reprieve. Harry and Ron however stared incredulously from Hermione to Ginny, unable to decide who to be angrier with.

"But Ginny—she's gone and made _friends _with _Malfoy_," Harry whined, appealing to the girl who he figured would be the angriest, for the longest time. Ginny squinted angrily.

"And if you don't stop being a complete _arse_, I just might do the same thing!" That threat alone was enough to sober up the two boys who resorted to mumbling incoherently.

"Have fun in Hogsmeade," Hermione offered, truly sorry that she had to miss the outing. As much as she wanted to spend time with her friends, she couldn't bring herself to leave Malfoy all alone in the hospital wing for too long. "I'm going to go to take a quick nap and then head back to the hospital wing. I'll see you lot later." On that note, Hermione nodded to each of her friends, quietly excusing herself from their presence. Then, she walked down the hallway and out of sight.

Ginny, who had been watching her friend carefully the past few days, seemed most intrigued by this latest development. _Does Hermione actually _like _Malfoy? _She wondered. At one time she would have discarded this thought easily but now she wasn't so sure. She _had _been spending a lot of time with him lately, but had he really changed enough? Would they be able to put their prejudices aside to actually make it work? Would he end up hurting her? Did they even feel the same _way _about eachother? _I'll just have to wait and find out, won't I_, Ginny mused to herself, smiling slightly. Things were _definitely _changing—although Ginny wasn't sure if it was as bad as Harry and Ron seemed to be making it out to be.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

* * *

Sources: 

"Curiouser and curioser" is from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll


	10. Qui tacet consentire videtur

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Ten: _Qui tacet consentire videtur_ (He that is silent is thought to consent)

"_There is always some madness in love. But there is always some reason in madness." _

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Hermione yawned, blinking theexhaustion from her eyes as she woke from a restless nights' sleep. For a minute she felt disoriented, like when she spent the night with a friend and awoke suddenly, having forgotten that she was not at home in her own bed. After a minute though, conscious thought began to seep back into her brain and she was surprised to find that she was still in the hospital wing. She wasn't in her usual position though—watching over the bed of Ron or Harry, or, in some cases, the one recuperating in the fluffy white linens of the hospital beds. This time she was watching over someone _quite _different from her usual patient. _I'm surprised Pompfrey even allowed me to stay here past visiting hours_, Hermione thought suddenly, glancing around for signs of the porcine healer. When she didn't see her anywhere, Hermione relaxed back into the stiff chair, letting her gaze fall over to the towheaded boy sleeping fitfully at her side.

_I just spent the night with Malfoy_, Hermione thought to herself, a slow smile coming to her face. It was more out of disbelief than anything else. In all her years at Hogwarts she had never spent more than a double potions class with Malfoy, and even that didn't involve much contact with the Slytherin. Now though she had spent an entire night in the same _room _as him and it wasn't as unpleasant as she initially imagined. He was actually kind of…pleasant. After his mother had left and she had returned from their common room, he had actually been smiling a little and, if she wasn't mistaken, a joke or two had passed him lips, causing them both to laugh a little at eachother's expense.

_He looks so peaceful_, Hermione thought, smiling lightly as Malfoy seemed to relax in his sleep. His motions had been fidgety for a while, but had seemed to lighten up and now he was resting peacefully. His cheeks were slightly rouged from the fretful exertion and a serene smile was spread across his handsome features. _It's a pity he isn't always like this_, Hermione mused to herself, thinking how much more attractive he would be if he wasn't always spouting off some snarky comment.

Without realizing exactly what she was doing, Hermione reached out, gently grazing Malfoy's arm with her hand. His arm was warm but when she touched it a whole crop of goosebumps rose up, making his soft blond arm hair stand on end. She couldn't help herself. Moving her hand slowly away from his arm, Hermione brought it up to his face, carefully brushing away the shock of blond hair that had fallen across his eyes.

"I know I'm dreadfully handsome Granger, but do you think you can hold off on the ogling until a more reasonable hour? Preferably when I'm _awake_."

Hermione jolted back at the sound of Malfoy's voice, tearing her hand away from the boy as if she had been burned. She tried to come up with a quick retort to suppress his cocky smile but found that she was severely tongue-tied and couldn't seem to emit more than a few nonsensical squeaks. Malfoy seemed deeply tickled by this as evidenced by his huge grin.

"Don't feel bad—_thousands _of women have suffered from the need to touch me," he continued, at which Hermione suddenly found her voice in the form of a loud burst of laughter.

"Oh _please _Malfoy. I'd rather not be compared to the hordes of desperate, no doubt crazy women who have supposedly 'thrown' themselves at you," she begged with a broad grin. Draco sat up in bed, staring at Hermione with a suddenly serious expression.

"Oh but Hermione, you are _quite _mad," he confirmed with a grave nod towards his brunette counterpart. Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"I am not," she defended lightly, crossing her arms over her chest in mock anger. Draco shrugged as if she had yet to see the light, forcing Hermione to question the boy's reasoning. "How do you know?"

"You must be," Draco said with a cocked eyebrow, glancing over towards Hermione, "otherwise you wouldn't have come here." For a minute neither party said anything, reveling instead in Draco's latest remark. Hermione paused. Why _was _she here? It certainly wasn't making her any more popular among her other friends. _Don't be so analytical, _Hermione chided herself, _you're only here because he's your partner and you were concerned with his well being_. Something inside Hermione refused to believe this though. What Draco had said the day before about being able to ask McGonagall or Pompfrey about his condition was completely true—either of the women would have been delighted to keep her updated, plus she would have been able to sleep in her _own _bed instead of the rickety hospital chair provided.

"I'm not mad, I'm just compassionate," Hermione offered lamely when she realized that the two had lapsed into a heavy silence once more.

"Is there a difference?" Draco wondered to Hermione's vague amusement.

"Not to you I suppose."

Draco smiled, staring at the girl beside him. He hadn't expected her to be there when he woke up, but from the looks of it she had stayed there all night. _Why is she doing this_, he asked himself, genuinely curious. In the past seven years he had never once given the girl any reason to be kind to him. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had gone out of his way to offend her. For a long time he had derived a sick pleasure out of reducing the "brightest witch of her age" to tears whenever he could, so much so that it seemed he had failed to notice just how much she had changed from the bushy-haired know-it-all from their first year. Sure she was still a bushy-haired know-it-all and Draco was sure that he could name a handful of girls right off the top of his head that were prettier than the Gryffindor, but the change in Hermione was undeniable. She had altered over the years, her personality made softer through the passage of time, but Draco could also detect an underlying sharpness that refused to be contained. This, Draco grudgingly admitted, was probably due in large part to Harry and Ron. Their brainless monkeyshines over the years had forced Hermione into the role of mother hen. She wouldn't let you get away with anything but it was damn fun to try.

"Malfoy—did you hear a word I just said?" Hermione demanded, giving the blond boy a gentle shove. Draco jolted out of his reverie, turning to stare wide-eyed at the girl in front of him. _Gods Draco, get a grip_, he coached himself_, she'll think you're battier than she is_.

"What?"

"Pompfrey just brought this in," Hermione explained, holding up the glass brimming with a silvery mixture. Hermione smiled, holding the cup out to the still-stricken Draco. "She says it's sweet this time." Draco, still not completely drawn out of his reveries looked at the glass as if trying toidentify its contents.

"Pansy brought this in last night, after you fell asleep," Hermione continued, pointing towards Draco's bedside where a lavish box of sweets sat, still tied tightly with a dark green ribbon. "She said it was from the Slytherin house, but mostly from her."

Draco smiled at this, as it was typical Pansy behavior. She tried hard to play the martyr but never could help raising herself up a bit in the end. She was nice enough though and despite the rumors about her, Draco considered her a friend. She had always been there for him in the past, and although he had never considered dating her again since their initial attempt several years back, he was willing to do a lot for her.

"Why didn't you say so Granger? We could've been halfway through them by now," Draco pointed out affably, sitting up so that he could grab the desired treats. Hermione reached out instinctively, swatting Draco's hand away.

"Not until you finish that medicine," she scolded lightly, involuntarily playing straight into the mother-hen image that Draco had concoctedfor her.

"Whatever you say," Draco commented lightly, tipping back the sweetened liquid. Hermione meanwhile reached over, unwrapping the silver and green box of goodies. When she had peeled away the lavish trimmings she looked down and laughed at the snake-shaped chocolates resting in their individual cavities in the silver tray.

"What is it?" Draco asked, cringing at the image of an embarrassing note or chocolates with his face imprinted on their fronts. As nice as Pansy was, she had a tendency to go terrifically overboard with the tiniest details and this was probably no expception. Hermione tipped the box forward slightly to show the source of her sudden amusement without upsetting the candies. Draco however wrinkled his brow in confusion, at a loss for what was so humorous. As far as he could tell there was nothing embarrassing about the candies. "What about them?"

"Malfoy—they're _snakes_," Hermione continued as if it needed no explaining, "I mean, I don't even have Gryffindor _socks_—there's no way any Gryffindor would have chocolates imprinted with the Gryffindor _emblem_."

"What are you getting at?" Draco asked feeling increasingly confused. Of course there were no Gryffindorinsignia onanything—what Gryffindor would want to broadcast that they were in _that _house, much less have the money to fund such an extravagance if they wanted to? With the exception of Potter or Weasley, of course. Hermione shrugged.

"I'm just saying that you Slytherins are quite the egotistical bunch, aren't you?" She teased. Draco rolled his eyes but he lacked any evidence of ire, only a dubious grin.

"Oh come on Granger, like you don't have something with Gryffindor splashed across it?" Draco asked. He figured that even if _he _wouldn't necessarily broadcast the fact that he was in Gryffindor didn't mean that other people were ashamed to be placed there. Hermione thought for a minute, considering this, but shook her head after a short moment's time.

"Nothing besides my school robes," she admitted. Draco however remained unconvinced.

"What about that hideous yellow thing with the maroon 'H' on it?" He pressed. Hermione frowned, trying to think of what Draco could possibly be referring to.

"My sweater?" She asked finally, deciding that he must have seen it draped across the chair in the common room. It was so large that Hermione often tended to use it as a quilt on colder nights. "That doesn't count—Mrs. Weasley made it for me." The moment the words left her mouth Hermione regretted saying them. She could handle Draco poking fun at her or even Ron and Harry, but she knew she wouldn't be able to stand it if Draco made fun of Mrs. Weasley. She was the kindest woman Hermione had ever known, with the exception of her own mother, and Hermione regarded her with the utmost respect. To her surprise though, Draco said nothing about Mrs. Weasley and instead continued on his battle to find a Gryffindor as proud as himself.

"You're telling me that Potter doesn't have Gryffindor boxers with little pictures of him on them?" He asked and was pleased when Hermione tipped her head back and laughed at this visual.

"I wouldn't know," she admitted honestly, and Draco was surprised to realize exactly how much this piece of information thrilled him. "I would expect if he has anything of the sort it would be Quidditch related."

"Charming," Draco said dryly, eager to turn the conversation away from Potter's _underwear_. "So are you going to give me one of those or not?" Hermione glanced down at the candies, picking one out and handing it to Draco who took it eagerly, guttling the sweet confection without reserve. Hermione slowly handed him another, the way he ate them—as if he had never tasted chocolate in his life—making her dehisce openly.

"You know you _are _allowed to _breathe_ in between bites," Hermione joked as she handed him a third. He smiled good naturedly, gesturing towards the box.

"Sorry—you've obviously never had a chocolate from the Slytherin house before, or else you would know why I was acting so greedy."

"I can't say that I have," Hermione admitted, dubious to the fact that _any _sweet elicited such a reaction as the one Draco was having.

"Go ahead Granger—try one," he urged, wiping his hands clean of the smooth chocolate.

"I don't know—how do I know they aren't chock-full of poison that Slytherins are immune to? It would be completely fitting—just so someone of a different house wouldn't dare steal a piece," She said, only half-joking. It seemed like something only a Slytherin would think of to do. Draco just laughed.

"I can assure you that you won't die or fall terribly ill. If you do, I promise that I will watch over you as you have done for me," Draco chaffered genially, urging Hermione to try a piece of the much-debated sweets. _That might not be too bad_, Hermione thought fleetingly before turning her attention back to the box in her lap. Hermione glanced down at the box, choosing the least-offensive looking of the sweet confections. She brought it slowly to her lips, biting off a miniscule piece and chewing it thoughtfully. Draco watched, ensorcelled by her meticulous movements until she had finished the entire morsel. It was only when she had completely finished and was licking the last little bit of chocolate from her fingers, that Draco dared speak.

"What did you think?" He asked and was amused when Hermione twisted her mouth up, as if deliberating an answer.

"Well, it wasn't _terrible_. I would hardly say it surpasses anything that _Gryffindors _have made, but for what it _was_—,"

"Oh shut up and pass me another," Draco snapped good-naturedly, reaching out so that he gave her leg a little shove. Hermione laughed out loud, picking out another chocolate snake and handing it across to Draco. He reached out as if to grab it but caught Hermione's slightly-curled fingers instead, pulling her towards him harshly. In one swift movement she was by his side, her hip jutting painfully into the stiff railings of the bed but Hermione didn't seem to mind. Draco paused suddenly—unsure of how to continue. He had worked so hard to get Hermione to trust him and he didn't want her to suddenly lose all faith in him. Still, he couldn't help wanting to drag her in, wrapping her in his arms. As it turned out, he shouldn't have worried as Hermione took his silence for her cue to make a move. Leaning in closer, Hermione tipped her head down so that she caught his lips with her own. The kiss didn't last long—hardly long enough to count for much more than a pleasant greeting between friends—butneither partycould deny the identical shivers that raced through their bodies at the contact.

"What was that?" Draco asked huskily when they had pulled apart, blinking up at Hermione for a clarification of her actions. She had backed away but was still holding his hand, which Draco took as a comforting sign. When Hermione opened her eyes she looked completely dumbstruck, blinking slowly in an attempt to regain conscious thought. When she did, she found that she was staringwordlessly down at Draco, her cheeks aflame as she rushed to find an explanation for what she had just done. She grabbed her things quickly, making to leave the hospital wing for the safety of her own room. Draco watched expressionlessly as she placed the box of candies back on his bedside and made for the door. Before she left though she turned back, a half-dazed smile on her face.

"I blame it on the chocolate."

And then she was gone.

* * *

Sources: 

"How do you know I'm mad?"

"You must be or else you wouldn't have come here…" was (again!) from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll


	11. Odio et amo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Eleven: _Odio et amo: quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior _(I love and I hate. You ask me why this is so; I do not know, but I feel it, and it torments me.) (Catullus) 

_"And 'Ah,' she sang, 'to be all alone, _

_To live forgotten, and love forlorn.'"_

-Unknown

Stupid Slytherins.

Stupid Slytherins and their bloody insanity-inducing chocolates. For that, Hermione decided later, was the only explanation for her earlier actions. Why else would Malfoy have taken her hand, drawing her close, and why else would she have continued this contact into a kiss? A _kiss_. With _Malfoy_. That thought alone was almost enough to make Hermione call St. Mungo's and institutionalize herself. _I kissed Draco Malfoy_, she thought to herself, trying to gauge the reaction that the reflection had on her system. She knew of course that she should be shocked—maybe even horrified—and for that reason she let herself believe that she was. Still though, she couldn't seem to deny the feeling in the back of her mind that was dancing between confusion and elation. Even though her brain tried to rationalize that it was a mistake in its highest form, she couldn't help wondering what he thought of the kiss. Was it as electrifying for him as it was for her? Did he feel the same burning down his spine, like a life suddenly caught afire? _What are you doing Hermione_, she scolded herself harshly, _don't let yourself fall prey to fantasy._

Hermione stormed around the common room, running deep pathways into the carpet with her fervent pacing. She hated the fact that she couldn't analyze the situation by herself and longed to run to her friends so they could all rehash the earlier events and make some sense of the inexplicabilities that had occurred. She knew however that since she was currently not in the best of favors with her friends—with the exception of Ginny perhaps—that they would probably not take too kindly to her latest imprudence. _I wish I could tell them_, Hermione thought sadly. In the past she had always run to Harry and Ron whenever she had a problem. It seemed that there was no problem the three of them couldn't fix, and then later, when Ginny joined the group, the four of them. Now though things had changed between the foursome and Hermione couldn't seem to figure out how to remedy _that _either.

Hermione glanced up, her eyes going to the flicker of movement on the wall as the portraits of the previous Head students moved slowly in their frames. Hermione's gaze went suddenly to the portrait of James and Lily, watching as James playfully tugged at a piece of Lily's fiery red hair. She had a reproachful look on her face at first but it soon broke into a splendid grin as she turned, placing her hands on James' chest and pushing him playfully away from her. _They were so much in love_, Hermione thought sadly, recalling their tragic demise. Their story never failed to bring a tear or two to her eyes, but this time she was recalling a different part of their courtship. _She hated him at first. He was egotistical, annoying and was always driving her crazy. Then they ended up loving eachother_. The thought was slightly unnerving, but at the same time it was inspiring. Hermione glanced up at the portrait once more, a sudden pang of guilt racing through her as she remembered how she had lied to Harry about it. _Out of all people he really deserves to see this_, Hermione thought bitterly, _all he wants is a memory of his parents and I won't even give him that. I'm cooped up in this room every day and I don't even appreciate it_. That thought only served to make Hermione feel worse though and she collapsed in defeat on the couch, stretching out lengthwise, as she had seen Malfoy do on numerous occasions.

"Did you miss me Granger?" Draco called out teasingly; tossing open the portrait hole with such vigor that Hermione worried it would separate from the wall completely. She had been so involved in her own musings that his unexpected entrance had caused her to startle suddenly, falling halfway off the couch in pure surprise. She banged her knee painfully on the coffee table, proceeding to utter a string of curse words that made even Draco raise his eyebrows.

"—oh, the malice—the cursed, diabolical malice of inanimate objects!" She yelled through gritted teeth as a finale to her tirade, a comment that both made Hermione blush at her childishness and Draco grin madly under a raised eyebrow.

"Talking to yourself again, Granger?" He drawled easily, flopping down in a chair kitty-corner to the couch where Hermione had once again righted herself. His laissez-faire attitude only worked to anger Hermione even more than she already was.

"Oh shut up," she snapped, still nursing her smarting knee, "I'm not in the habit of talking to myself." Then, after a moment's pause, she added more quietly to herself, "even though it's the only way I can get a decent conversation around here." Draco smirked at this, sitting back in his chair and eyeing Hermione curiously.

"You are certifiably _mad_," he offered, not even blinking under Hermione's icy glare.

"Oh how did you even manage to get out of the bloody hospital wing? I thought you'd be in there for another few days," Hermione grumbled, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her knee. Draco merely shrugged.

"I talked Pompfrey into letting me go early. Aren't you glad to see me?" He wondered cockily, and Hermione was hardly surprised to find that he had completely reverted back to his old conceited self and showed no signs of remembering their earlier assignation. Taking his cue towards normalcy, Hermione shrugged.

"I was for a fleeting moment, and then of course you spoke." Draco smiled slightly, as if proud of Hermione for continuing the conversation, and stared back at her.

"Oh please Granger, don't hold back—be blunt," he deadpanned to Hermione's annoyance.

"You are so insufferably _annoying_. I can't believe I _ever _thought about—," Hermione stopped suddenly, realizing exactly what she had been about to say. She had barely been able to admit her thoughts to _herself,_ and here she was, practically telling Draco her entire little-girl fantasies regarding the two of them together. Draco leaned forward in his seat, in preparation of Hermione's admission, and when no conclusion came to her sentence he found that he was severely disappointed. _Thought about what_, he prompted silently, eager to hear what she had been thinking about.

"Don't be afraid," Draco said suddenly, surprising even himself with his uncharacteristic plea. Hermione shot him an annoyed look.

"I'm not," she spat out defensively, "I'm not afraid of anything." Even as she said it, Hermione knew that was a lie. She was afraid of plenty of things—and sharing her real feelings with Draco (not to mention with herself) was definitely one of them. Draco looked thoughtful for a moment as if he was trying to remember something and then stared suddenly at Hermione.

"'The one who feels no fear is a fool, and the one who lets fear rule him is a coward'," he said finally, a self-satisfied smirk gracing his face for being able to properly recall the quote. Hermione seemed to mull this over for a moment before rolling her eyes.

"How enlightening. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll be off to my room to complete my homework," Hermione excused lamely, standing to leave. Draco frowned. This was not how he had wanted this to go at all. He had expected her to be leery of his homecoming giving their awkward last meeting, but he had truly wanted to talk about it with her and see whether or not it was a mistake on her part or the beginning of something real.

"You and I both know that you finish all your homework as early as possible Granger, I'm not falling for that." Hermione paused.

"Well seeing as I was rather _busy _this weekend, I'm sure even _you _will realize that I'm behind on several things."

"Oh bollocks Granger—you had everything done _long _before the Quidditch game even started." Hermione desperately tried to come up with another excuse, her face flushing as she realized that she was caught in the lie.

"Oh bugger off Malfoy, I'm tired," she supplied finally, feeling more and more childish by the second.

"You know Granger, there's nothing to be afraid or ashamed of," Draco continued, oblivious to how his words were annoying Hermione. This latest comment proved to be the worst though and Hermione spun around quickly, facing Draco with her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"What in _Gods _name are you blathering about now?"

"All I'm saying is that you shouldn't feel bad about—well, you know," Draco paused, shrugging, "kissing me." Hermione knew her face must have gone a deep crimson but at that moment she didn't care.

"If I recall correctly, _I _wasn't the one who initiated the whole thing." Draco shrugged.

"Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe," he chimed lightly, waving his hand to enforce the frivolity of the specifics. "I may have started it, but _you_ were the one who continued it." Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco's levity. He smirked. "I know what you want Granger." Something in the way he glanced at her made Hermione shift uneasily in her spot. When she found her voice she was less than impressed.

"Oh, don't use that tone with me," she scolded in annoyance, desperately trying to think of a way to leave the room without making it obvious that she was leaving because of him.

"What tone?"

"You know—that smug, superior tone that means you know everything because you're you and I don't know anything because I'm me." Draco raised an eyebrow, thoroughly confused.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" He found himself asking, wondering vaguely how he could have been paired with such a batty partner. She was supposed to be the smartest girl in their year but she definitely had her moments.

"You know—you act as if you know _everything_ and all I can do is sit there trying to catch up. It's completely ridiculous." Hermione tried to explain tiredly but Draco still seemed confused.

"That's not true—you're always twelve steps ahead of me and everyone else. Even if it _was _true, I still don't see what's so bad about it. You don't have to know _everything_ you know."

"But I feel like I _should_," Hermione continued, trying to explain where she was coming from. "Whenever I _don't _know something I just look it up. I've never _not_ been able to learn something when I want to." Draco, still not fully comprehensive of the thought Hermione was trying to get across, merely shrugged.

"Success is a lousy teacher." Hermione glared his way, her brow distressed.

"What are you talking about?" Draco shook his head, brushing his latest remark off with the wave of a hand.

"I've been spending too much time with you I guess—you have me talking in riddles," he admitted almost bashfully. Hermione sighed, walking closer to her bedroom door and putting a hand on the brassy handle. She needed to think. She needed to think for a while and analyze the situation at hand. She needed Ginny, and her friends to hash it out with, but mostly she just needed to be alone.

"I'm going to bed," she announced as if that put a formal end to all questions, and pushed her door open. Before she slipped through into the safety of her bedroom she thought she heard Draco muttering something about being able to run, but not being able to hide from the conversation for long. Hermione set her mouth into a determined pout, falling heavily onto her bed. She was so tired that she knew she could fall asleep fully clothed and not wake up for days. And as for Draco and his threat to get her to talk about what had happened between them—?

_Well we'll just see about that_.

* * *

Sources: 

"I'm not in the habit of talking to myself…even though it's the only way to get a decent conversation around here…." Is from (what else!) Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

"Success is a lousy teacher." Is from The Road Ahead by Bill Gates

"The one who feels no fear is a fool, and the one who lets fear rule him is a coward." Is from Castle Roogna by Piers Anthony

"Oh, the malice - the cursed, diabolical malice of inanimate objects!" Is from Military Anecdotes by Lt. Col. J. Enoch

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

"I was…and then you spoke…." Is from _As Good as it Gets_

"Don't use that tone with me….that egotistical tone…" is loosely lifted from a dialogue from the movie _The Birdcage_

"Don't hold back...be blunt…." Okay, I don't know exactly where I got this, but it came to me and I can't, for the life of me, figure out where I got it, so if it sounds familiar to anyone, please tell me.


	12. Credo quia absurdum

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twelve: _Credo quia absurdum_ (I believe it because it is absurd)

_"We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears."_

-François duc de la Rochefoucauld

For the next week Hermione did a spectacular job of avoiding Draco at all costs. She left early in the morning—far before any of the other students were awake—and returned late into the night. She clung to Harry, Ron and Ginny like glue, laughing affably at meals, between classes and during her rounds and when they had Quidditch practice (which they seemed to have a _lot _of lately—what with Malfoy offering up his team's slot to the Gryffindor team every other day) Hermione holed herself up in the library, hiding behind a tower of books. On one hand, Hermione had never been doing better in her classes. On the other hand, she had never felt more like a coward.

It wasn't that she was _afraid _of talking with Draco. It was quite the opposite in fact. Over the course of the week Hermione had found that she thoroughly missed their tête-à-têtes, to which she had grown quite accustomed. Their banter it seemed was what kept her on her toes, something she had realized only when she began to seek out the same acerbic exchanges with her other friends, none of who seemed as eager to reciprocate as Draco always had.

Hermione bent her head over a book, her eyes glazing over the paragraph that she had been attempting to read for the past fifteen minutes. She couldn't even get past the first _sentence_ of the passage and didn't even know how much longer she would be able to stay in the library. She had logged such long hours lately that even McGonagall had stopped her in the hallway the day before, inquiring into the size of her workload. _She's just worried about you_, Hermione told herself gently, figuring that she should feel honored that people were even noticing. Still, she couldn't seem to shake the annoyance she felt. It was true that she wanted to talk about what had happened in the hospital wing—with someone _other _than Draco—but she didn't like how people seemed to be talking and worrying about her behind her back, as if they were afraid to confront her about it themselves. Hermione was just about to reread the passage for the umpteenth time when a soft cough behind her alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone in her little corner of the library.

"Ginny?" Hermione said in an attempt to mask her surprise at her red-headed friend's sudden appearance in the library. It wasn't that Ginny was foreign to studying—she was actually a better scholar than either Harry or Ron, although she had yet to reach Hermione's level of study—it was just the surprise at seeing her friend in such a secluded part of the library mixed with the knowledge that Gryffindor Quidditch practice was currently in session. "What are you doing here? I thought you were practicing." Ginny shrugged, pulling out the chair next to her brunette friend.

"I told Harry that I needed to take the night off," she raised her eyebrows conspiratorially, leaning in to whisper despite the fact that there was no one else around, "He was skeptical at first but I told him I was having some _female troubles_. He let me off pretty quickly after that." Hermione laughed out loud at this information and knew that if anyone had been around she would have been shushed for sure. Ginny smiled brightly though, tickled pink that she had made her friend laugh—something she felt had been sorely lacking from their year thus far.

"So what's going on? I thought you loved Quidditch," Hermione wondered, gently closing her long-forgotten book and setting it atop the pile in front of her. She turned to face her friend, feeling as if this could easily turn into a very different conversation. Ginny shrugged lightly, twirling a loose strand of her fiery red hair around her index finger. It was a habit she had carried since childhood, winding her hair around her finger whenever she was nervous or worried, and this situation proved no exception.

"I do, I just wanted to talk to you," Ginny admitted somewhat bashfully, her cheeks shifting to a rosier hue behind her freckles. Hermione cocked her head slightly but said nothing, prompting Ginny to continue on with her explanation. "I feel like we haven't been able to buckle down and really talk together this year."

"Oh I know," Hermione agreed, somewhat apologetically. "Between my Head duties and your Quidditch practices we barely have any time at all together." Ginny nodded dolefully.

"I completely agree—I miss having you in my dorm! There's no one decent to talk to at all! It seems the only thing those girls want to talk about is who has the prettiest nail polish or hair style or some other rubbish like that." Hermione smiled softly to herself, recalling the countless nights that she had stayed up trying to read while Lavender and the others talked about various drivel.

"Well I don't think it's against the rules for me to stay in the Gryffindor dorm for a night or so," Hermione said thoughtfully, immediately warming up to the idea. "I could always come and visit." Ginny cheered up considerably at this news, her eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You think so?" Ginny pressed excitedly. Hermione nodded.

"Absolutely—I could come tonight if you wanted." The more Hermione thought about it, the better the idea seemed. Spending the night with Ginny would allow her to catch up with her friends and she wouldn't have to come up with an excuse to stay away from her own common room until she was sure that Draco was asleep. It was the perfect escape.

"That would be great," Ginny declared, pleased with the direction of the conversation so far. Hermione had been hanging out with her and the boys all week, but there had been a certain impassiveness to her that had Ginny worried that her latest attempt at conversation would be unwelcome. It seemed that all her fear had been for naught though, as Hermione seemed brighter than she had all week.

"Then it's settled—for tonight at least you'll be saved from Lavender's nonsense," Hermione laughed lightly to herself. She paused when she noticed the suddenly-serious note fall across Ginny's usually-playful features. "But I know you didn't come so I could invite myself to stay with you tonight. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Ginny blushed, slightly embarrassed at her transparency. She had never been able to hide anything—between her fidgeting and her tendency towards blushing; she was like an open book when it came to her feelings.

"Actually Hermione, there _was _something—well, _someone_ really—that I wanted to ask you about," Ginny began, treading slowly with her words so that she could gauge Hermione's reactions to her remarks. When Hermione's face remained blank, Ginny continued. "Well, it's just that I've just been noticing a few things lately between you and Malfoy." Hermione's face went pale and she seemed to lose her voice for a second but her voice failed to falter when she quietly asked,

"What things?"

"Just—unusual things I suppose," Ginny supplied, suddenly at a loss for specifics. "Like the way you talk about him—or the way you're always hanging out with him, defending him and the like. It's not bad, it's just…different." Hermione glanced down at her hands, feeling certain that her feelings were playing out across her face. In all honesty she didn't even know _what _she was feeling towards the blond Slytherin. He made her furious at times, but he also had a softer side to him. Almost as if he was sensitive or caring in some secretive way. _Yeah, Malfoy sensitive_, Hermione laughed to herself, _that boy's about as sensitive as a toilet seat_. Hermione glanced up and when she realized Ginny was still watching her for an answer she reddened once more. _Why did she have to notice this? No one notices anything and suddenly she noticed _this!

"Well, I guess I was just worried about you. I mean, is there anything going on with you two?" Ginny pressed and Hermione sighed.

"Oh Ginny I don't know," she admitted finally, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. She had been thinking it over for the past week and had yet to come to a conclusion. "I mean, we had one kiss, but it was really small and didn't really count and now neither of us quite know what to do about it." Ginny's jaw dropped open suddenly, her eyes bugging out in shock.

"You _kissed _him?" She squealed so loudly that for a moment both girls went deadly silent as they made sure they were not in danger of being discovered. Ginny, still smiling madly, leaned in, whispering in a loud voice, "I can't believe you kissed _Malfoy_! _Where_?" Hermione blushed.

"In the hospital wing." Ginny giggled surreptitiously, scooting her chair closer to her friend's.

"Hermione—why didn't you say anything before? Who else knows?"

"No one—and Ginny _please _don't say anything to anyone—_especially _Harry or Ron. They would go absolutely bonkers." Ginny laughed out loud, visualizing the less-than-happy reactions of her brother and best friend.

"I promise—but you have to tell me all about it. I can't believe you waited a whole _week _to tell me about this!" Hermione smiled slightly, recalling the moment. There hadn't been one single moment in the past week when she hadn't been thinking about the kiss, but she had never stepped back to _really _examine it. Her thoughts regarding their unexpected kiss had all been purely analytical—what did it mean, what did Draco think of it, how were they supposed to act around eachother now? She had never just sat back and thought about the beautiful unfussiness of it. It had been a kiss, plain and simple. True, it had inspired a million different electrical currents to shoot through Hermione, but it had only lasted a moment and that was it. It wasn't Hermione's first kiss but it was by far her best and she felt cheated that she hadn't been able to discuss it with her friends as she would have had it been anyone but Malfoy.

"There isn't really much to tell," Hermione confessed, "I was visiting him in the hospital wing and we were eating chocolate. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me close and I just kind of leaned down and…we kissed." Ginny's face had broken into a wide grin of excitement and she leaned closer to her friend so that their conversation would not be overheard by any student wandering deep into the library.

"Hermione, I can't _believe _this! Why didn't you tell me you two were going out?" Hermione blanched immediately, her throat constricting painfully at the words.

"I haven't told you because we _aren't_ going out—not now or ever! It was a silly mistake and I think both of us would like to forget all about it." Ginny pouted slightly, cocking her head to the side.

"Why not? It's clear you two are _mad_ for eachother." This was news to Hermione who shot up so quickly that she narrowly avoided smacking heads with Ginny.

"What in God's name are you talking about?" Hermione demanded and Ginny looked dubious.

"Don't tell me you don't see it—that's blatantly obvious!"

"To who?"

"Anyone with eyes, ears and a semi-functioning _brain_! Well, I don't know if Ron and Harry see it yet, but they will pretty soon." Ginny informed her knowingly. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh honestly Ginny, that's the most _inane_ thing I've ever heard. Draco and I are _not _'mad' for eachother." Ginny raised and eyebrow, staring skeptically at her best friend.

"Hermione—I can't believe you don't see it. You're always making excuses to hang around with him or watch over him, you stick up for him in front of the guys and you blush whenever someone mentions him. You two flirt all the time when you're doing your rounds—and don't try and deny that, because _everyone_ can testify to that. Not to mention that you just called him as _Draco_." Hermione paused, taking in all of Ginny's evidence. _Did I call him Draco_, she wondered vaguely, unable to recall how she had referred to the boy.

"Ginny, that's not flirting that we do on our rounds that's _talking_, and what does it matter if I call him Draco—that's his _name_." All of Hermione's protests did nothing to deter Ginny who was shaking her head at her denial.

"Hermione—has anyone told you that you are a terrible liar? I wouldn't consider a career in espionage if I were you." Hermione sighed heavily, covering her face in her hands. She didn't know what she wanted from Draco, but she knew for certain that she wanted things to go back to normal. Back when they were just friends—not necessarily completely comfortable with eachother, but there had certainly been no awkwardness either. She didn't want to analyze every glance or sentence that Draco said to her. She just wanted things to go back to how they were.

"Ugh—I wish certain things would just stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone!" She cried out in defeat, prompting a concerned Ginny to pull her friend into an impromptu hug.

"Hermione—I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, but what I _do _know is that you've been different this year. Not different in a bad way either—just different. And in my personal opinion it's the best thing that you've done in the past seven years." Ginny paused, thinking carefully before smiling thoughtfully at her friend. "Never pass up new experiences Hermione, they enrich the mind." Hermione was dumbstruck.

Was Ginny actually _encouraging_ her?

* * *

Sources: 

"People never notice anything." Was from Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

"Sensitive. That boy was about as sensitive as a toilet seat." Was from Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

"Certain things should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone." Was from Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger (Hmm, it seems as if I've found an Alice in Wonderland replacement, doesn't it? Hahaha!)

"Never pass up new experiences…they enrich the mind." Was from Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell


	13. Sic volo, sic iubeo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Authoress' Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: _Sic volo, sic iubeo_ (I want this, I order this.) (Juvenalis)

_"One never gets used to the idea that there is nothing one can do."_

From The Doomsday Book by Connie Willis

Draco was absolutely livid.

Draco was absolutely livid and he was taking it out on the Heads common room. No piece of furniture was left unbeaten, no book kept on the shelves and Draco had even gone so far as to shatter a lamp against the hearth (which he had quickly repaired and replaced on the table next to the couch, slightly embarrassed). _Who the bloody hell does she think she is_? Draco fumed silently, falling heavily onto the couch. He didn't even care that his shoes, muddy from an earlier Quidditch practice, were resting against the cushions, quickly soiling the elegant fabric. Had Hermione been there she would have scolded him immediately, forcing him to remove either his shoes or his feet and Draco, for his part, would have been happy to oblige. _But she isn't bloody here, now is she?_ It was that fact alone that worked to enrage Draco, making him shake his boots slightly in order to ensure a mucky reminder of his presence.

At first, Draco had completely understood Hermione's need to distance herself from him. Well, he hadn't exactly _completely _understood it, but he figured that it was some female thing that would remedy itself in time. She was no doubt embarrassed about their little assignation in the hospital wing and was trying her best to save face, although quite unnecessarily in Draco's mind. Her actions had not at all been uninvited and had she not vanished so quickly afterwards, Draco would have been sure to make that _expressively _clear to her. However, since she _did_ manage to run off before Draco could assure her of the fact, he figured she had every right to believe that she had committed some terrible sin and was attempting to purify herself before showing her face once more. That's why the first few days that she had blatantly avoided him Draco had completely understood and left the Gryffindor to deal with things as she saw fit.

After the third day however, Draco had been somewhat less forgiving. One of the things he had grown to admire about the girl was that she wasn't afraid to face her fears and her blatant evasion of him proved to be her ultimate cowardice. It also bothered Draco because as Head Boy and Girl they were supposed to collaborate on a number of things, most of which fell to him in Hermione's absence. She was still maintaining her duties and splitting the work evenly but something about not being able to work in partnership with her seemed to dramatically affect Draco's productivity. And lastly—perhaps the largest part of Draco's irritation, and the hardest for him to admit—was that, quite simply, he missed the girl. He missed being able to talk with her at nights, laughing over one of the various couples they had caught after hours that had come up with some ridiculous excuse for being out so late. He missed making fun of Potter and Weasley and watching as Hermione grew angrier and angrier. He missed their verbal spars that had become a standard fixture in his day. He missed the way her brow would furrow when she was thinking hard about something, and the way she would finger her bushy brown tresses when she was reading. He even missed the way he could always find her bent over her schoolwork, her nose pressed almost to her parchment as her quill worked away furiously, scribbling out notes in her tiny script. In short, he missed Hermione.

Draco had honestly thought that her avoidance was the worst thing she could do, but he had been proved completely wrong when she took things a step further and failed to come home. _It's been two fucking nights—where the hell is she? _Draco wondered furiously, turning over restlessly on the couch. He could guess of course—it was no secret that she had been clinging to the Gryffindors all week and it was only reasonable that she would be in their common room. What he didn't know was how long she was planning on playing her stupid mind games. Draco almost wished that she had never kissed him in the first place—at least she would still be in their common room with him, and they would be talking and laughing. Because despite what everyone else believed, they _did _have a good time together. He didn't care how much he had teased the girl or thought her inferior or tedious—when she wanted to, she could be fun to be with. He was beginning to see why Potter and Weasley were so enamored with her. Now if he could only figure out _their _appeal—

_It's been two days since she's even been here! I haven't seen her in a full week and now she isn't even coming home at all? This is bloody ridiculous! _Draco thought to himself, feeling his temper reach a head once more. _Who the hell does she think she is? She can't just avoid me forever! She has to come back sometime! _Even that thought though failed to pacify Draco. He didn't want to have to wait for Hermione to decide the time was right to come home and talk about their kiss. He wanted to talk about it _now_! And for Draco, who was quite accustomed to getting whatever he wanted _whenever _he wanted, having to wait seemed like an unnecessary destitution. He was tired of Hermione's capriciousness and he wasn't going to wait for her any longer. _I'm Draco bloody Malfoy_, he told himself, rising slowly to his feet, _I'm a bloody Slytherin, I don't wait for Gryffindors to figure things out, I damn well do what I please!_ Although somewhat tenuous in his reasoning, the thoughts alone were enough to get his blood racing once more. He wasn't going to wait for Hermione to essay the situation—he was going to grab the bloody bull by the horns and take charge! Taking one last glance in the mirror by the door, Draco ran his hand untidily through his hair and set his jaw sharply. He was going to do what he should have done a week ago. He was going to go get Hermione and bring her home.

* * *

Hermione sat cross-legged on Ginny's bed, smiling at her friend's interpretation of Gabrielle. Fleur it seemed had managed to gain Ginny's admiration by her show of dedication in the hospital wing the year before, but Gabrielle had yet to prove her worth. Apparently over the summer Fleur and her family had spent a few nights with the Weasley's and Ginny had been less than impressed with the younger blond who was allegedly even more high maintenance than her older sister.

"Oh look Fleur," Ginny mimicked in a terrible replication of the girl's accent, "ze whole family leeves een vun tiny house all togezer! Zat eez too funny!" Hermione laughed out loud at the charade, shaking her head at what she hoped was an exaggeration of the younger girl's character. Ginny was adamant about her futility though and only stopped her mockery when both she and Hermione threatened to suffocate from their own laughter.

"I'm sure it wasn't _that _bad," Hermione reasoned, wiping at her eyes in an attempt to calm herself down. She had forgotten how much fun she could have with just her friends and how easy it was to forget all of the bad stuff going on. Horocruxes needed to be found, exams needed to be passed, her little tryst with Draco needed to be sorted out, but Ginny could easily make her forget all that with a simple imitation of her despised future-relative. It was a nice feeling though and Hermione was beginning to think that she would only go back to her common room when Ginny physically kicked her out of the Gryffindor one. _Well, I suppose I'll have to go back before that_, Hermione reasoned, figuring that Ginny would never outright tell her to leave and after a long enough time McGonagall would begin to get suspicious as to Hermione's disinclination to spend time in her own dorm. Still, Hermione figured she had another good week with her friends and smiled to herself as she stretched out on Ginny's bed. She even found that she didn't mind listening to the inanities from some of the other girls, finding them comforting reminders of her previous years spent in the dorm.

"Well," Ginny began breathlessly, plopping down on the bed next to Hermione, "she certainly has her moments. Just wait until the wedding—then you'll see." Hermione raised an eyebrow at her redheaded friend, recalling the crush that Gabrielle had harbored for Harry ever since the Triwizard Tournament challenge in which he had saved her from the lake. Taking Ginny's feelings for Harry into consideration, Hermione guessed that _that_ was probably the _real _reason for the acrimony between the two girls.

"Are you sure that you aren't slightly biased because of her feelings for Harry?" Hermione found herself asking, smiling broadly when Ginny's jaw fell open in shock.

"Hermione!" Ginny scolded, her cheeks matching her shock of red hair, "I can't believe you said that! Gabrielle is eleven years old—I'm not threatened by her!" Hermione laughed out loud at Ginny's offense, shrugging her shoulders.

"You never know," she mused with a smile, causing Ginny to blush once more.

"Gabrielle does _not _have a chance with Harry," Ginny stated stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest to accentuate her point. Hermione laughed again, playfully shoving Ginny's shoulder and sending her rolling over towards the end of the bed. She shot back up, her mouth in a little "o" of surprise as she lunged towards her friend for payback. Hermione's eyes widened when she realized that Ginny was planning revenge but she was saved by a small cough at the foot of the bed. Both Hermione and Ginny stopped their friendly brawl and turned, facing a questioning-looking Lavender and Parvati.

"Hello," Ginny said slowly, glancing from Hermione to the unexpected visitors. "Can we help you?" She hadn't meant to sound rude, but inevitably that was how it came out, causing Parvati to shoot her a confused look. Lavender however kept her eyes trained on Hermione.

"There's someone at the foot of the stairs that wants to see you," Lavender snapped charily, her eyes squinted into little slivers of suspicion. Hermione sat up, straightening her pajamas and smoothing out her hair. Someone was there to see her? And why was Lavender acting so odd? _Maybe it's Ron, _Hermione thought to herself. She had always had a sneaking suspicion that no matter how much Lavender protested it, she still had feelings for Ron. _That has to be it—she's jealous that Ron wants to tell me something_.

"Who is it?" Hermione ventured, climbing off of Ginny's bed in preparation of her descent back to the common room. Lavender shrugged, playing absently with her hair.

"Go and see," she said ambiguously, watching Hermione's hesitant retreat to the stairwell. Lavender looked to Parvati and the two shared a secretive smile. Hermione was in for one hell of a surprise.

* * *

It had taken a ridiculously long time for Draco to get into the Gryffindor common room. He knew of course where the entrance was, but finding a Gryffindor willing to share the password was a completely different story. At first he had run into Harry and Ron on their way back from some no-doubt pointless escapade and found them to be completely unsympathetic to his plight. Draco may have been a _little _more understanding had the two not taken such care to _whisper _the password so that he had no chance of hearing it. Then had come Neville who may have let Draco in, had he dared to stick around long enough to find out what it was exactly that Draco wanted. At first glance of the blond Slytherin Neville had been so nervous that he had blown right past him, barelycapable of spitting out the password. Draco had to assume that the portrait of the fat lady often took pity on the bumbling boy and swung open regardless of whether or not he said the correct word as it was doubtful he even managed to _remember _the damn thing. Finally, just as Draco was ready to head back to his own common room and try again the next day, Lavender and Parvati had come, giggling nervously as he explained himself. They had taken pity on him and allowed him entrance to the Gryffindor commons, agreeing even to go fetch Hermione for him.

_Well this is sufficiently awkward, _Draco thought to himself as a group of second years eyed him warily from the couch by the fireplace. He shot them an icy glare which sent them scurrying to return to whatever they had been doing beforehand, but even this didn't really help to pacify the whirring emotions inside of Draco. Ever since his little speech to himself in his own common room before deciding to go out and fetch Hermione he had been running on adrenaline—something that was quickly declining as he got more and more glances from the curious Gryffindors. Now he was beginning to worry—what if Hermione refused to come with him, as she was highly likely to do? What if Hermione hated him for coming to get her? What if Harry and Ron teamed up to try and take him down in their friend's honor? The what-ifs proved endless.

"Looks like you finally found someone daft enough to let you in." Draco sighed. _What if Potty and Weasel come and annoy me into hexing them both into next year?_

"You dated her," Draco shot back icily and watched with pleasure as Ron reddened behind his crop of freckles. Harry, noticing his friend's current inability to speak, stepped up in Ron's defense.

"What do you want Malfoy?" He demanded callously and Draco noticed that his hand hovered tellingly over his pocket which Draco could only assume meant that he was preparing to draw his wand.

"Nothing that concerns you," Draco admitted tiredly, hoping to avoid a fight if at all possible. As much as he wanted to hex the cockiness out of Harry he figured that Hermione wouldn't take too kindly to him if he proceeded to mutilate her friends.

"We want you to stop bothering Hermione, Malfoy," Ron shot out, finally finding his voice among the quarreling. Draco stopped. _Hermione, Malfoy_, he thought to himself, having failed to catch the main point of Ron's speech. _Hermione Malfoy_. It had a pleasant ring to it. Draco stopped—_are you bloody mad? _He demanded of himself. _Get a grip on yourself—you haven't even had a bloody date with the girl and you're already planning wedding invitations? Make sure to stop by and see Pompfrey later—I think you're having some side effects from that fall. _When he realized that the boys were both still staring at him, waiting for a confirmation that he would no longer hassle their friend he sighed.

"I'll stop bothering her when she stops kissing me," Draco snapped, delighting in the looks of horror that graced the boys' faces. As opposed to Harry who was struck dumb by this statement, Ron reacted with unadulterated rage.

"She did no such thing!" He shouted fervidly, holding his wand level with Draco's face. Draco felt no worry though as Ron's hand was visibly shaking and with each passing moment he seemed to lose more and more impetus. "She wouldn't," he squeaked although Draco could tell he wasn't so sure anymore. "Take it back!" _Gods, is he going to cry? _Draco panicked suddenly. It certainly seemed possible the way his face was flushing and his eyes were growing increasingly wet. Having been raised a Malfoy; Draco had never been big on the whole public-displays-of-emotion and found himself quite undone at the prospect of the oncoming waterworks—especially since Ron was a _bloke_.

"Sod off Weasley; I'm not in the mood to hex you tonight. I have better things to do," Draco said coolly, hoping to prevaricate the whole emotional scene altogether. Ron however seemed to have other plans andDraco hoped toGod that they did_not_ include tears.

"Take it _back_!" He barked loudly, trying to steady his hand. Draco was about to shoot something back when a movement on the stairs stopped him. He looked up. _Hermione._ And it wasn't just Hermione either. It was Hermione _in her pajamas. _She had paused on the penultimate step, staring at the three boys in front of her with utter confusion.

"Draco—?" She began, not realizing that she was using his first name, much to Ron and Harry's horror, "What are you doing here?" Draco immediately turned from Ron who had yet to pull his wand away and stared at Hermione, his entire purpose for coming to the common room becoming clear once more.

"I came to bring you back home," he said, somewhat more forcefully than he had originally intended. Hermione looked surprised but didn't back up, stepping forward instead and closing the short distance between herself and the trio of boys.

"What's going on?" She asked as Ron fumbled to put away his wand. Draco sighed.

"I'm taking you back to your _rightful _dorm," he snapped, reaching out and catching Hermione's slim wrist with his hand. He proceeded to walk towards the exit, slightly miffed when Hermione planted her feet down, refusing to budge.

"I'm allowed to be here," she defended hotly, attempting to pull her wrist from Draco's grasp. Unfortunately she severely underestimated his strength and found that getting free was easier said than done.

"Yes, but I think it's time you came home," he snapped in exasperation, "There are several things that you and I need to talk about." His tone and obvious implications caused Hermione's face to flame up in embarrassment. Under no circumstances would she go back to their dorm to talk about _that_.

"I'm not moving another inch," Hermione decided, pouting stubbornly, much to Draco's amusement.

"As you wish," hesmirked, stepping forward. In a matter of seconds he had let go of Hermione's wrist and caught her around the waist, hoisting her up effortlessly over his shoulder. For someone so commanding Draco was surprised at how light she actually was. _Her bloody hair alone should weigh a good ten pounds_, Draco thought to himself, yet it didn't seem possible as shefelt light as a feather in her entirety.

"What are you doing you bloody lunatic? Put me down!" Hermione screeched, kicking her legs against Draco's chest. Her efforts proved ineffectual though as Draco's grip was stronger than she could have imagined.

"Will you stop that blasted kicking? Gods Hermione, what are you trying to do to me—break my bloody nose?"

"Let me _go_!" Hermione bellowed, struggling to break free. Draco's response was simplyto hold her tighter. He began to walk from the common room, ignoring the wide-eyed stares he got from the occupants as he left with Hermione still pitching a fit. Harry and Ron watched in open-mouthed astonishment as Draco stepped carefully through the portrait hole and out of sight.

Had they not been so dumbfounded by the whole scene, they may have done a little more to help.

* * *

Sources: 

"As you wish" was actually used unintentionally, but it is from _The Princess Bride_


	14. Astra inclinant, non necessitant

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Authoress' Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

**Special Authoress' Note:** This chapter gets two quotes because I liked them both and I am horribly indecisive.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: _Astra inclinant, non necessitant_ (The stars incline; they do not determine)

_"Often our feelings lie beneath the surface,  
Hidden by the smiles we wear upon our faces;  
emotions are concealed,  
we bear our sorrows on our own,  
Grown-ups only cry when they're alone."_  
- Noel Richards, from Never Give it Up by Sheila Walsh

_Was it Love? Or was it the thought of being in love?_

-Pink Floyd

"Damnit Granger—that bloody _hurts_!"

Draco snapped, dumping Hermione unceremoniously onto the couch in the Heads common room. He had endured her beatings throughout the entire trip from the Gryffindor common room to their own and was beginning to feel the effects of the thrashes. His chest hurt from having Hermione's knee driven painfully into it for three hallways and his back was inevitably bruised from her pounding fists. Dropping her onto the couch was an instant relief and Draco found himself slumping tiredly into the lounge chair next to it, nursing his injuries. Hermione however wasn't as forgiving as he had prayed she would be and hopped up immediately, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"It serves you right for _kidnapping _me!" She snarled irately, shoving an accusatory finger into his chest. "I can't believe you would do that—in front of my friends, my housemates, and everyone else! Do you know the rumors that will be flying around tomorrow? Lavender and Parvati will have this spread—and embellished—by breakfast!" Draco smirked cockily, apparently lacking any hint of a preservation instinct, and stared at Hermione.

"That's so true Hermione—and I can only imagine how things will be now that Potty and Weasel know about our little rendezvous in the hospital wing," he noted smugly to Hermione's absolute horror. She blanched immediately, her hand flying to her forehead in warning of an oncoming headache.

"You are the most inconsiderate, intolerable, _insufferable_—,"

"Are all the alliterations really necessary, Granger?"

"—_incorrigible, _imbecile I have _ever _met in my _life_! How can you be so uncomprehendingly _dense_? Do you have any feelings whatsoever?" Draco had to hand it to her—the girl was incredibly verbose when she was angry.

"I can see _someone _still has her panties in a twist," Draco remarked unperturbedly, taking the moment to relax into the chair. He smiled placidly at Hermione who flushed crimson at the insinuation.

"Do not think for one _moment _that you had any affect whatsoever on my panties!" Hermione sputtered hotly to Draco's immeasurable amusement.

"There's no shame in admitting it—many girls, much stronger than you, have fallen prey to this body." Draco waved his hands across his chest and face, obviously pleased with what he had to offer. Despite her momentary irritation towards her co-Head, Hermione couldn't keep herself from snorting in disbelief.

"Oh right—_that's _rich. I'm sure it's difficult being you and living the life of a bloody _heartthrob._" Draco shrugged, genuinely pleased that Hermione had seemed to temporarily desert her foul mood.

"All part of the challenge of being me," he continued conceitedly, shaking his hair back from his eyes.

"Well I'm sure it's challenging—not necessarily for the reason's _you _posed, but a challenge nonetheless."

"Well," Draco began sagely, "life isn't fair I suppose. Especially when you're filthy rich and handsome to boot. " Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco's ego petting.

"I agree—if life were fair you wouldn't be the Head Boy, Voldemort would be dead, and all of us good guys would be living happily ever after," she joked but Draco's brow furrowed with gravity. _What was that about me not being Head Boy? I bet she wishes it was bloody Potter—the damned good-for-nothing, can't-leave-well-enough-alone, egotistical prat!_ Draco thought bitterly to himself, oblivious to his outright jealousy.

"Hermione, let me tell you something," Draco began, his tone dark and thoughtful, "Life is a disease; sexually transmitted and invariably fatal. Of course it isn't fair. We're all just doing the best we can under the circumstances."

"How poetic," Hermione noted after a moment of stunned silence. Draco grinned, his earlier demeanor taking over his suddenly-serious deportment. "Your acumen never fails to amaze me."

"Good," Draco grinned, sitting up from his slouching position to stare at Hermione. Somewhere in between her anger and her sudden tranquility she had settled onto the couch and was now watching him with a cautious glint to her eyes. "Now, for the matter at hand." Hermione gulped. She had hoped to avoid this altogether but apparently Draco couldn't get the kiss off his mind. _Well, neither can you_, the annoying voice in the back of her head chirped, causing her to groan in annoyance. It was so hard to be angry when her own body was siding with her _enemy_.

"Do we have to?" She whined and Draco smiled. Good. She had gone from complete avoidance to mild acceptance. At least they were making progress. "I don't want to talk about it—it was a mistake! This isn't fair!" She cried, fully aware of how childish she looked, and sounded. She almost wanted to stomp her foot to provide the full effect. The smile quickly fell from Draco's face. A mistake? A _mistake_? He had gotten all worked up all week for a bloody _mistake_?

"I told you before—_life _isn't fair. Now why'd you kiss me?" Draco demanded, all traces of affection lost. Hermione was confused. Why was he being so moody?

"I plead momentary insanity," Hermione joked, hoping to inspire some sort of amiability back into her foil's mood. He remained petulant though, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Bollocks—you wanted me Granger. It was raw, rampant lust."

"Oh, you _wish_. It was nothing of the sort. I was merely tired from having spent the night in that blasted chair and all logical thought was shot to hell. I can't be blamed." Hermione paused. "And as I seem to recall _you_ pulled _me_—quite _savagely_ if I might add—to you. What exactly were _you _planning on doing?" Draco shrugged, his joviality returning gradually.

"Don't get your trousers in a twist. I was merely embracing the inevitable." This served to catch Hermione's interest and she sat up straighter, eyeing her co-Head suspiciously.

"What are you blathering on about now? Honestly, talking to you is like plucking out one's own eyelashes—painful and pointless." Draco sighed. Obviously subtleties weren't her forte. If he had any hope of having her understand him at _all _he would have to use more concise terms.

"I'm talking about the unavoidable—we're _supposed _to be together, it's the counterpart theory," he explained as easily as if he were asking Hermione to pass him a book. For her part, Hermione was rendered completely speechless. Well, for a moment at least.

"What in the seven circles of hell are you _talking_ about? Have you gone _completely_ insane?" She cried, having seemingly lost all control over the volume or octave of her voice. Draco winced. This was not quite how he had expected her to react.

"You make me sound absolutely mad! It isn't as if I'm suggesting you strap a piece of parchment to your head and go around pretending you're a bloody unicorn! I'm merely suggesting that we may, in some alternate universe, have the chance of being friends." Hermione laughed.

"I think you were _suggesting_ something a little more _romantic _than _friendship_," she teased which only made Draco roll his eyes, continuing on with his earlier speech as if there had been no interlude.

"It's inescapable Hermione, there's no use fighting it. We're supposed to be together simply because we're so opposite. We harmonize eachother. Example," he paused to point to himself, "erratic," he gestured towards her, "reliable. I'm a rebel; you're a stickler for the rules. I'm an idler, you're studious."

"I'm good and you're evil." Draco ignored this comment, continuing on with his spiel.

"I'm audacious and you're docile. I'm—,"

"—a bloody lunatic is what you are. Are you feeling ill? I think that bludger to the head shook you up more than you think." Draco frowned and he sighed, leaning back in his chair. Leave it to Granger to ruin a perfectly good _scientifically proved _theory. He thought she of all people would understand, having read nearly every damn book in the library.

"How's that working out for you anyway?" He asked and Hermione wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"What?"

"Being clever," Draco supplied warily, wishing that for once she would put aside all prejudices and see him as a _person_ rather than the _enemy_. _Well do you blame her? For nearly your entire academic career you have tormented and beleaguered the girl and you expect her to forget all of that just because you came across a few articles that explained your sudden attraction? You _are _loony. _

"Great," Hermione admitted brightly, a broad smile adorning her face. Draco rolled his eyes. _Well I'm glad _she _can find the humor in this, _he mumbled inwardly. _Why shouldn't she—she's not the one who just bloody humiliated herself with your stupid counterpart theory!_

"Keep it up then," Draco offered lamely when he grew uncomfortable with the silence that had fallen over them. Hermione watched him curiously, wondering how to proceed. Why did he have to be so damn _confusing_? One moment he was hating her and the next he was proclaiming that they were _made _for eachother? Hermione didn't know what to say. She felt awkward and blundering. She wanted to reach out and take his hand but she didn't know how to go about it. He was acting so pleasant, so charming—suddenly it hit Hermione. This was all a joke. Some elaborate ruse cooked up to undoubtedly amuse the Slytherins. _Well I'm not falling for it_, Hermione decided decisively.

"Hermione?" Draco offered after a moment and Hermione was surprised to find that she was unnerved by the genialness in his voice.

"What do you want?" She sighed although her voice lacked any of her desired indignation. Draco smirked, falling back into his swaggering disposition.

"Just that you fear me, love me, do as I say—the usual." Hermione's less-than-amused glower worked to curb Draco's repartee, returning his focus to his articulations, "Think about it, its destiny. We were led by a star." Hermione snorted again in a very unladylike manner.

"By _chocolate _you mean. Come on Draco, you can't honestly believe that we're destined to be together because of the bloody _stars_. You know how much I hated Trelawney's class—it was all just a bunch of guesswork. Nothing incontestable. And that's exactly why I don't—why I _can't_—believe you."

"You just don't have an open mind about things like this. Nothing is completely inconceivable."

"That's not fair—just because I don't believe in fate and my destiny in the stars doesn't mean I'm not open minded!" Hermione protested, "What I _do _believe in is medical problems, which is why I think you should have your head reexamined in the morning."

"Damnit Hermione, I'm _not _brain-damaged! I'm _serious_!" Hermione rolled her eyes, settling back down against the chair. Draco watched her, expecting her to respond, but when she made no move to do so and instead picked up a book Draco found himself unnerved.

"What are you thinking?" He found himself asking and immediately regretted it. '_What are you thinking?' _He demanded of himself, '_What are you thinking?', gods Draco, what are you, a bloody girl? Why don't you just grow a pair of ovaries right now and be done with it? Why do you have to be so damn feminine all the time?_ Hermione lowered her book and stared at him curiously, as if lost in thought. Finally she sighed.

"I'm thinking that you haven't fully evolved from the chimps." Draco looked aghast.

"I did _not _descend from _animals_," he said as if horrified by the thought. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on Draco, it's evolution. _Everyone _evolved from them. I wasn't insinuating that it was just _you_." Draco still looked dubious about it and shook his head in disagreement.

"Well maybe everyone _else _did, but I didn't." He paused, taking in Hermione's bemused smirk that she was trying to hide behind her book. "I ain't no kin of the monkeys," he clarified once more, although his voiceadopted a sing-song lilt that worked to change the mood of the dispute. Hermione shook her head, sending her brown tresses flying.

"Oh honestly. I almost wish that you were still talking about your blasted _we-were-meant-for-eachother_ speech. At leastthenyou weren't disputing provedscientific theories. Granted, you were creating your _own_, but I guess that's just the risk you take when you talk to a _crazy _person." Draco shook his head, slightly annoyed at her analysis of his theory.

"It isn't a crazy theory and I didn't _make it up_. I was simply telling you that there are other-worldly forces at work here. We can't deny them much longer." Draco raised his eyes suggestively but Hermione bit her lip as if distracted by her own thoughts.

"I don't believe you." Draco was surprised at how much those four words hurt when Hermione said them. _Why? What can I do to make you believe?_ He was at a loss though for how to proceed and instead just resigned to pouting.

"Well, it's your loss then. Here I am trying to be open and honest with you and you insist on living in the past." Hermione rolled her eyes. Gods, if she had known he was so _dramatic _about everything she wouldn't have bothered contesting his uncharacteristic pronouncement.

"Oh would you tone it down a bit? I don't know why you're getting so worked up. You're the one who came to the Gryffindor common room, _kidnapped _me, and then proceeded to lay down ridiculous theories regarding our future together? Now you're getting all testy because I find it hard to believe that the boy who teased me ruthlessly since day one suddenly developed feelings for me? That just isn't fair." Draco cocked his head to the side, smiling slightly.

"You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is." Hermione sighed.

"You are infuriating."

"And you are positively humming with sexual tension."

"Oh sod off you great lump," Hermione groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly. For a joke he was doing a pretty damn convincing job. She could only imagine what the finale was supposed to be. When he finally convinced her to date him would he publicly humiliate her? She hated that she couldn't foresee his intentions but she hated even more that she was beginning to fall for his charms. _Come on Hermione, don't be daft. Get a grip on yourself!_ In her musings Hermione had failed to notice that Draco had risen from the chair and was now seated startlingly close to her. Consequently she was even _more _caught off guard when she found Draco's strong hands on either side of her face, rendering her immobile. "What are you—,"

Hermione was cut off by Draco's lips on her own. It was a smoldering kiss that sent Hermione's heartbeat rocketing and her senses ablaze. _What is he bloody doing?_ She wondered vaguely, dubious yet unable to break the osculation. _This is absolutely batty—can you imagine what Harry and Ron would say if they knew that you were kissing Draco Malfoy? He's been the thorn in your side for seven bloody years and now you're allowing him to kiss you? You've gone absolutely mad! _Hermione scolded herself inwardly, unable to shake the self-consciousness about the taste of her breath.

When the kiss finally ended both teenagers seemed to have a difficult time returning to the moment. Draco recovered first, blinking back the shock of his own actions, and stared at Hermione who was sitting motionless on the couch, eyes closed and lips parted slightly.

"What now?" He asked huskily, having yet to fully recover from their latest endearment. Hermione blinked. She had to focus. She couldn't let herself get sucked into Draco's joke. She had to get out—she had to get away from Draco, if only for a while. She glanced towards her bedroom. _Perfect_.

"Bed," she said flatly, stifling a fake yawn in an attempt to make her sudden escape more plausible. Draco however either didn't notice her yawn or chose to ignore it as he smiled brightly.

"Yours or mine?"

"Oh bugger off," Hermione spat disgustedly, rising from the couch and walking towards her room.

Draco watched her go, silently cursing himself, and when he was sure she was out of earshot, not-so-silently. This had been exactly what he had tried to avoid. He had wanted to take his time, gain her trust and maybe even her friendship before engaging in a relationship. Then his stupid hormones had kicked in and that plan was shot to hell. The worst part though was that Draco could tell Hermione didn't believe him. She thought he was joking or teasing her—he could tell by the way she was always so guarded around him. _Why do you think that is_? Draco asked himself sardonically, _you're the one who tortured the girl for years and now you expect her to forget all that and just give in because you've told her that it's destiny? No wonder she left, she probably thought you were a bloody lunatic! _Draco sighed, cursing the emptiness around him. He had to make Hermione realize the sincerity behind his avowals.

* * *

Hermione sat in her room, beating the life out of her pillow. _Stupid Malfoy! _She fumed inwardly. She was mad at him for telling her those things but she was even angrier with herself for wanting desperately to believe them. She wanted to believe that he liked her. She wanted to believe that they were complements or whatever it was that he had said. She wanted to be liked and appreciated and loved. But Hermione wanted it to be real, and no matter how much Draco had appeared to have changed she couldn't get over the sick feeling in her stomach that she would pay for it later. Casting one last despairing look towards her door, the one thing separating herself and Draco, Hermione flopped back on her bed, burying her face in her pillow.

A moment later, she began to cry.

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Terra for all of the reasons below and also a few reasons up above**

Sources:

"Life…is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal." **Is a quote from Neil Gaiman**

"What now?"

"Bed"

"Yours or mine?" **Is from the movie _Pretty in Pink_**

"We were led by a star"

"Led by a bottle (I used _chocolate_) you mean." **Is from Monty Python's _Life of Brian_**

"Just fear me, love me, do as I say…." **Is from the movie **_**Labyrinth** _

"That's not fair!"

"You say that so often. I wonder what your basis of comparison is." **Is also from _Labyrinth_**

"How's that working out for you?"

"What?"

"Being clever"

"Great."

"Keep it up then" **Is from the movie _Fight Club_**

"Oh, someone still has her panties in a twist."

"Don't think for one second that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties." **Is from the movie _Ten Things I Hate about You_**

"She did not know what to say to him. She felt awkward and blundering…." **Was loosely lifted from a passage in one of Antoine De Saint Exupéry's books**


	15. Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: _Aut insanit homo, aut versus facit_ (The fellow is either mad or he is composing verses)

"_It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them." _

–Agatha Christie

And so it was decided.

Draco needed to make a grand gesture. The only problem was that he had no clue what to do. He wanted to do something that would catch Hermione's attention—and hopefully _keep _it—but to do that he knew that he would have to do something really good. Somehow, Hermione didn't strike him as the kind of girl who would swoon over a thoughtful limerick or a flower delivered via owl. _No, _Draco decided, _I have to do something big—something that will show her that I'm not trying to trick her. _

Draco sighed, flopping down heavily on his bed. He couldn't understand what had gone so horribly wrong. His infatuation with his bushy-haired counterpart was so unexpected and unfounded that he often wondered if he had made some calamitous error in potions at the beginning of the term, resulting in some sort of twisted love spell. It was ridiculous, of course, but it was the only way Draco could even begin to explain his feelings. When he had received his pre-term letter informing him of his coveted Head Boy position there had been no doubt in his mind who the Head Girl would be. Hermione had been in the lead for the position since her first year, and had it been permitted, Dumbledore probably would have given her the role then.

Draco was embarrassed to admit that, faced with the prospect of sharing his dorm with the Gryffindor; he threw somewhat of a fit. Nothing involving kicking or screaming—as that would have been far too unrefined to take place in the Malfoy Manor—but he engaged in his fair share of moping around. He stormed about the manor, upsetting books and other various adornments from tables and bookcases. He pouted and carried such an expression of despondency that his mother had threatened to tell his father about his pettiness. That had worked to shut him up, but Draco continued to sulk for the remainder of the summer and into the first week or so of the school year.

In the beginning, Draco assumed that Hermione would continue to annoy him as usual. It wouldn't have been so surprising, as he knew that he deserved most of what he got, having been a constant source of irritation since day one. If he was going to be at all honest, he would have to admit that he hadn't really thought too much about Hermione in all his time at Hogwarts. Sure, he could always be counted on to utter an insult when she walked by or roll his eyes when she was practically jumping out of her seat to answer a question (even if it was rhetorical), but contrary to what people seemed to believe, he did not spend countless hours devising intricate plans to torment her. Draco actually tried _not _to think about _anyone _in the Gryffindor house, and when his thoughts wereunwillingly drawn to the bunch, the minutes were usually spent nursing his detestation of Potter. Throwing affronts to Granger and Weasley had always been somewhat of a bonus.

The first week that Draco shared a dorm with Hermione hadn't been quite the excruciating affair that he had originally imagined. She was definitely wary of him (_still is, Damnit_, Draco begrudgingly admitted) but their time spent together had been far from terrible. True, they bickered, and more often than not they were in opposition regarding some project or duty that they were supposed to collaborate on, but it was rare that those disagreements comprised malice and were really more out of habit than anything else. Consequently, after a few weeks when Draco found himself actually _enjoying _Hermione's company he was rather thrown off.

Throughout the year their relationship had transformed from virtual strangers (there hadn't been much time in-between the insults and fighting to really get to know eachother) to almost-friends. Their banter had become somewhat of a fixture in his day and Draco found that he almost looked _forward _to spending time with the girl. She may have been a little too much of a know-it-all and she may have done her fair share to annoy him still, but she was usually good for a laugh or two, if nothing else.

His sudden willingness to spend time with the girl had been so out of the blue that Draco had turned to the library and its vast selection of books to help him understand what was going on. But after three days and countless of books later, all he had managed to come up with was the stupid counterpart theory, which Draco had to admit he had changed liberally in order to benefit his own theories regarding his co-head. _Then you went and bloody blurted out the whole ridiculous theory to her! No wonder she ran away you moronic oaf_, Draco scolded himself inwardly. He hadn't meant to say anything about his research but then, faced with the prospect of Hermione growing bored with his company he had spewed out the whole preposterous hypothesis! Worst of all though, after he had said it, Hermione had grown chary of his motives and had left even quicker than she would have had he said nothing at all.

That's why, after watching her walk away from him for the umpteenth time in the past week, Draco was suddenly so desperate to catch her attention once and for all. He wanted something that would prove that he was being real with Hermione, something that would show her once and for all that the Great Draco Malfoy had honestly changed enough to allow romantic thoughts regarding the Gryffindor Princess to permeate his discriminating mind.

_What would be the last thing that she would expect?_

Draco wanted to do something wild and endearing, but everything he came up with was either ridiculous or less than appealing. She was much more difficult to please than the other girls he had been with. All of the other girlfriends he had had over the years had all been easy to acquire and even easier to please. It was true. Draco had been spoiled by the women in his life. Not that that was too hard to do, as he hadn't had many real girlfriends.

Over the years, Draco had had two or three girlfriends, none of whom were really serious. There had been a few girls various hook ups here and there, but for the most part, Draco's reputation had been embellished and he was not quite the ladies man as most made him out to be. In all honesty he found girls somewhat of a mystery and had a hard time composing himself around them. Sure he knew the appropriate things to say and do, having been raised in the proper wizarding fashion, but when it came to really buckling down and taking on the full responsibility of a relationship, Draco found himself more scared than he dared to admit.

Out of all of the girls that Draco had been with however, Hermione provided the greatest challenge. He had never been at a bigger loss for what to do or say with a girl in his whole life. _Probably because all of the girls you've dated have been introduced to you through your parents—they've been bred by old pureblood families and are expected to be docile and deferential._ That wasn't to say that Draco's girlfriends hadn't been fun or entertaining. Most had actually been good for a laugh or two and pretty to boot. They just hadn't offered such resistance as what he was currently facing.

_Okay Draco, you have to think about this—what would impress Granger?_ Unfortunately, as he had always been set up through his parents, Draco had never had to woo for affection and was quite unprepared for the burden of it all. He knew that most girls enjoyed having things bought for them (well, at least the girls he had dated seemed to like it) but he doubted Hermione would see it as anything other than a way to show off his bank account. Not to mention the fact that he wouldn't have had a clue as to what to buy her, unless they sold autographed copies of Hogwarts; A History. _Not that anyone would want to associate their name with _that_ tome of sheer boredom_, Draco mused derisively. In an effort to understand his co-head a little better, Draco had picked up Hermione's tattered copy of the book one night. Five minutes later (four of which had been spent wondering how a person could write a book that boring without stabbing themselves to death with the quill) he had put it back down, attributing her endorsement of the text to her utter inscrutability.

_Focus Draco—now what does Hermione like?_ Draco was at a loss. He had no clue what Hermione liked—he had been completely unaware of the girl for the past six years. Draco thought (briefly) of going to Ginny as she was the one person in Hermione's entire group of friends who didn't seem to hate him _completely_, but pure cowardice had turned him off of that idea. Although he admitted that five long years had passed since the infamous singing-valentine debacle Draco still harbored guilty feelings regarding his actions. He had been trying to get a rise out of Harry and had only meant his acerbic remark to affect _him_—upsetting the Weasley girl had just been an unpleasant side-effect to the entire event.

Draco's irritation with the redheaded Weasley clan was mainly just with the males, for various reasons. Fred and George because of their idiocy, the likes of which usually made him look moronic. He had been on the receiving end of too many of their trick-candies to care very much for the popular look-alikes. Percy, mainly because he had scolded Draco a few too many times for his liking, deducting an unfair amount of house points for trivial discrepancies. And Ron, well, Draco mainly reviled Ron because he hung out with Harry—not to mention that experience had taught him to deride the whole lot of them. Ginny wasn't terrible though. She was a year below him so they never really ran into eachother and she seemed much more coherent than any of her brothers. Plus, Ginny was the only one out of the Gryffindor trio-turned-quartet who had yet to hiss scathing remarks when he walked by for allegedly bewitching Hermione.

_Maybe there's something to that_, Draco decided, recalling the entire singing-valentine calamity with a mixture of culpability and excitement. It was almost perfect. He would be able to flatter Hermione while also apologizing to the redhead, however round-a-bout his techniques were. Suddenly satisfied, Draco settled in the couch and hatched his plan.

* * *

Hermione sat in the Great Hall the next evening, framed on either side by Ginny and Harry, feeling as if both parties wouldn't mind terribly if she removed herself completely and took a seat next to Ron. The tension between Ginny and Harry was practically palpable and Hermione was almost certain that any day now they would both realize the idiocy of their avoidance and get together already. It would certainly make them both happier—not to mention it would rid the room of one of the white elephants that seemed doomed to occupy it. Between Ginny and Harry's avoidance of their feelings, the group's general aversion to the whole Hermione-Draco situation and Ron's refusal to disclose his latest crush, Hermione felt as if their conversation was laced with holes and inconsistencies. Hermione rarely found herself contributing to the dialogue simply because she wasn't sure what an acceptable topic of conversation was anymore. 

"Are you going to eat that 'Mione?" Ron asked, stabbing his fork in the direction of her dinner roll. Hermione glanced down at her plate, taking in the several different meats and pastries that she had piled on absently, and shook her head. She had enough food to feed a small army—there was no reason not to share.

"Go ahead," she coaxed unconvincingly, yet that didn't stop Ron who quickly swiped the covetedbread from her tray.

"Thanks," he expressed gratefully, ducking his head over his plate. Hermione glanced to the greater group.

"Is everyone ready for the holidays?" She asked brightly. The others glanced up quickly as if they had completely forgotten about the upcoming celebrations.

"I—well, I think so," Harry admitted, worrying his brow as if trying to recall all of his plans. Ron and Ginny were decidedly slower when it came to their thinking. Finally Ginny shrugged, as if releasing all of the possible stress associated with her yet-to-be-formed plans.

"No matter—there's another Hogsmeade trip coming up before the holidays anyway," she said matter-of-factly, and both Ron and Harry seemed completely relieved by this news. As everyone paused to delve into their food, Harry turned towards Hermione, staring at her from behind his dark glasses.

"You will come with us this time, won't you 'Mione?" He asked, and had anyone else said it Hermione would have taken it as a jab of her previous "betrayal". Harry however seemed genuinely hopeful, so Hermione wasn't surprised to find herself smiling at her comrade.

"Of course—you don't think I would let you lot pick out my Christmas present. I'd probably end up with full Quidditch equipment," she joked agreeably, sending thoughtful smirks all around the table.

"You know, it wouldn't be such a bad idea—just to get you used to the game and all. I bet it would help you understand it a bit more—,"

"Not another word Ron!" Hermione scolded lightly, waving a bite of sausage at him to emphasize her point. Hermione smiled, enjoying the easy familiarity that came with her foursome of friends. She had missed these undemanding discussions and had worried that the earlier discord may have affected the blasé dynamic. Fortunately, her worries were for naught as it appeared that nothing was different among the foursome.

"Well, _we _have to make sure _you _don't buy us all special edition copies of Hogwarts; A History," Ron joked to Hermione's mild indignation. Would _no one _understand about that book? Hermione had thought that all hope was not lost when she had peeked out of her room one night to find Draco reading it, but all optimism melted away when she came out five minutes later to find it propping up the bookcase by the fireplace.

"One day you'll appreciate having an updated copy of that—that is if any of you actually _read _it," Hermione explained resignedly, "Plus, I don't get you that _every _year. They haven't even come out with a new edition in three _years_."

"Yeah you guys—stop criticizing Hermione. Last year she got us new ink and quills for homework efficiency," Ginny joked to Hermione's chagrin.

"Oh honestly—my gifts aren't _all _bad." Harry shrugged, a devilish grin on his face.

"I suppose not," he agreed, albeit hesitantly. Hermione grumbled at him through a mouthful of food, turning to Ginny who was suddenly elbowing her in the ribs.

"What?"

"Looks like you have a visitor," she speculated, her eyebrows raised questioningly. Hermione nearly choked on her sausage when she saw what—or rather _who_—Ginny was referring to. _Draco_. What was he _doing_? He looked paler than usual (although Hermione wasn't sure how she could tell, as he had never been the most bronzed lad) and his face looked grim, yet determined.

"What is he _doing_?" Hermione hissed to Ginny who looked highly interested in what was going to happen. Hermione however shad her doubts. She most certainly did _not _want a run-in between Malfoy and the two testosterone-driven members of her foursome as she would inevitably be forced to choose a side and at this point she honestly didn't know which one it would be. As much as she wanted to attribute Draco's uncharacteristic declaration to some heinous joke, a large part of her couldn't help feeling almost hopeful that it wasn't. _Would it really be so bad_, she wondered_, to have someone really, genuinely be interested in me?_

"What do you want Malfoy?" Ron snapped when he finally noticed the blond boy hovering somewhat nervously behind Hermione. Ron's hand immediately flew to inside his robes where Draco assumed he was carrying his wand.

_It bloody well better be his wand he's preparing to pull out_, Draco thought to himself, horrified at the prospect of catching a glimpse of a _different _kind of Weasley wand. He shuddered—_Come on Draco, focus. You're doing this to show Hermione you're sincere, not to picture all the things Weasley could pull out of his pocket._

"Nothing involving _you_," Draco shot back pointedly, turning back to Hermione who had yet to turn and face him. It was almost as if she were hoping he would just go away. _Well that's encouraging_, Draco thought, taking a deep breath. "Um, Hermione?" When she turned around, feigning a look of surprise, Draco continued. "I just, I had something I wanted to read to you." Hermione looked confused.

"What? You want to read it to me _now_?"

"Um, yeah—I was hoping to."

"Well what is it? Something from McGonagall?" Hermione pressed, her brow furrowing in concern. She hadn't heard anything new from the Headmistress but she was wont to make sudden changes regarding schedules and duties, and Hermione wanted to be sure she had the latest information. Draco however looked flustered.

"No—it isn't from McGonagall. It's from me." Ginny tried to suppress a smile but Hermione joined the boys in looking completely befuddled.

"From you? Did you write up a division of duties? Because I already put one on your desk—,"

"Gods Granger, will you please stop talking for one second? No, this isn't from McGonagall. No, this isn't a division of duties—which I think you should know, I used mine to catch a bug in, and would appreciate another one when you can. I'm just trying to read you something that I wrote," Draco sighed, rubbing his head. He hadn't expected her to bloody question every damn thing he said!

"What is it?"

"A poem," Draco admitted, feeling more and more infantile. To make things worse, Harry and Ron began to titter lightly, that is of course, until Draco sent them both a glare that made them sober up at the risk of losing a limb or two.

"A _poem_?" Hermione repeated, making sure that she had heard him right. "You want to read me a _poem_?" Draco sighed, fumbling with the crumpled up parchment in his hand.

"Well, not so much any_more_," Draco admitted, "but that _was_ my original intention." Hermione glanced over to Ginny who shrugged her shoulders in a "go-with-it" sort of way. Hermione sighed. This was too much. Malfoy reciting _poetry_? To _her_? Had the bloody moon crashed to earth as well?

"Why?" Hermione felt as if a huge piece of the puzzle was missing and she was determined to figure it out. "Is this about last night?" Ron and Harry bristled.

"What happened last night?" They demanded in unison, both envisioning some disturbing romantic scene. Hermione glanced to them, as if having forgotten they were even there beside her.

"Nothing," she said brusquely, which was obviously a lie, and turned back to Draco. "Well—is it?" Draco shrugged.

"You said you didn't believe me—so I thought I'd try and convince you." Hermione felt herself smile as she suppressed the urge to sigh dreamily as she had seen Lavender do on many an occasion. She had never been the girly-girl, but she was definitely beginning to see the appeal. She wanted to melt over the gesture, but Hermione also didn't want to leave herself open to anything.

"Well," she continued slowly, waving her hands. Draco looked perplexed.

"Well what?"

"Well—go ahead and read it." Draco blanched, losing his nerve.

"I—I don't want to anymore." Ginny, who was just about to go crazy in anticipation of this latest proclamation of love, bobbed up and down in her seat.

"I'll read it for you," she offered, which only elicited a weary glare from Draco. _Come on Draco, you said you wanted to make a grand gesture—this is pretty damn grand. Well, not so much grand as it is incredibly embarrassing, but—_

"I'll read it," Draco grumbled, unfolding the paper in his hand. He sighed heavily. _This better work_. He did _not _fancy making a fool of himself in front of the glorious Gryffindor quartet, especially Potter and Weasley. If he was going to do it—really read the poem he had written—he wanted to be damn sure it would be worth it. True, Hermione looked dubious now, but Draco felt pretty confident that after reading the poem she would come around. She had too. It was the only thing he could think of.

"Well by all means, continue," Harry cajoled, leaning his elbow on the table. He almost looked as if he were enjoying himself—which probably wasn't too far from the truth. It was rare that he was presented with the opportunity to watch Malfoy make a fool of himself and he intended on making the most of the situation.

"Oh sod off Potter," Draco snapped irritably, clearing his voice. He looked to Hermione. _Please don't laugh_. He glanced back to Harry and Ron who were now wearing identical grins of gaiety. _Or point_. "Okay…um, here it goes then.

" _It seems that fighting is all we do,_

_yet my affections are undoubtedly true,_

_the task then has fallen to me,_

_to prove I really like you Hermione,_

_and to tell you—just so you know it,_

_you've turned me into a bloody poet_."

Draco stopped, bringing the parchment down from his eyes. He was well aware that everyone within earshot was staring, quite awkwardly, at him, as if he had just sprouted a second head. He could hear unrestrained laughter, whispers and even a limerick or two cropping up among the Gryffindors. _At least Hermione's not a Ravenclaw_, he thought bitterly. He could only _imagine _the witticisms _they _could come up with. Somehow though, Draco could seem to care about all the jokes and whispers surrounding him. All he cared about was Hermione and her reaction. Unfortunately, Hermione seemed to have suddenly been petrified as she was sitting as still as a statue. Her face was completely blank and Draco couldn't seem to determine her feelings.

"I don't think Hermione liked your poem," Ron speculated and Draco decided then and there that he would kill the damn Weasley boy if it was the last thing he did….Unless of course Hermione did it first, which didn't seem so crazy as her eyes were flashing daggers at the redhead. She looked furious but remained silent.

_What the bloody hell was that_, Hermione wondered silently as her brain spun in a million different directions. She felt completely undone. _Draco likes me. Draco likes me and I think I might like him, but what now? Do we get together? What if we date, I lose all my friends (well, besides Ginny) and then we break up? I will have lost my two best friends for a guy that has hated me up until this year! Is it worth it? Ginny certainly seems to think so. Should I do it? I think I want to—but I want to be sure. I just…I don't know what to do. _Hermione felt sick. She needed time to clear her head. She needed time alone, away from Harry and Ron's incredulous glances and Ginny and Draco's hopeful ones. So Hermione did the only thing she could think of.

She got up and left.

* * *

Sources: 

Wow—I don't think I have any! As much as I would like to discredit that poem (eek!), it truly is all mine! Well, except for the whole Harry Potter thing….

The "I don't think Hermione liked your poem" was from the Chamber of Secrets when Ginny gives Harry the singing Valentine thing and Malfoy shouts out "I don't think Potter liked your poem!" or something to that effect...Anyway, that's why Ron said it.


	16. Si vis amari, ama

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

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Chapter Sixteen: _Si vis amari, ama_ (If you wish to be loved, love) (Seneca)

_Step forward now, you Soldier,  
You've borne your burden well.  
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,  
You've done your time in Hell._

-Unknown

Draco stepped into the astronomy tower later that night and was promptly hit in the face with a book.

"_What_ the—did you have to hit me with the biggest bloody book you could find?" He snapped, nursing his aching nose. Hermione, for her part, looked absolutely horrified and Malfoy was certain that if it wasn't so dark he would have been able to see a fierce blush on her face. After the debacle at dinner, Hermione had gone back to her common room, resigning to lock herself in her room for the night with a book and her thoughts. After a few minutes though, she had decided to get out, so, armed with a book, she had wandered the hallways until finally coming up with the perfect spot that would neither be inhabited by teachers or students.

The Astronomy tower had never been the safe hideaway that most people seem to take it as. Sure it was peaceful and the view was pretty great, but all in all it was just an empty classroom. And to Hermione and empty classroom proved as thrilling as an empty book—if there was no chance to learn, what was the point? Still, as it was quiet and deserted and out of the way, Hermione figured that it was her best option regarding where to go and lay low for awhile. And unlike all other students, Hermione had no excuse not to stay out. If she got caught by anyone she could always claim some special Head Girl duties that were keeping her out. After the infamous poetry reading Hermione had gone to get away from the confused glances of Ron and Harry, but mostly just to think things over. The Astronomy tower had proved the best place for that. _And if things get really confusing I can always jump_, she had joked to herself. So she had gone and enjoyed the silence before being scared to death.

Hermione raced over to Draco, her hands fluttering around awkwardly, at a loss for something productive to do. Finally, she picked up the book.

"Oh my god Draco, you scared me! I was just reading up here and I heard a noise and I got scared!" She rushed to explain. Draco sighed; at least she hadn't _meant _to hit him. That's better than he had expected anyway.

"You heard a noise so you pelted your fifty-pound book at my _head_? Remind me not to go walking with you at _night_. I'd be bruised from head to toe with all the _noises _you would strike out at." Hermione rushed to explain, trying to figure out the extent to which Draco was injured. _It seems as if his mouth is fine_, she noted with a hint of annoyance.

"I told you, I didn't _see _you."

"Your aim would suggest otherwise." Draco paused, staring closely at the offending object in Hermione's hands. Contrary to what he had first believed, it wasn't a schoolbook or a text book. It was too small for that—although still mighty enough to pack a decent punch. "Is this a kissing book?" Draco demanded, plucking the novel out of Hermione's slack grasp.

"_No_," she said immediately, although the strange way her voice went up proved otherwise. "Well, _technically _I suppose. I mean, the characters _do _kiss, but the book doesn't _revolve _around kissing." Draco however looked amused.

"You leave me all alone in the middle of the Great Hall to come and read a _romance _novel?" Hermione rolled her eyes, snatching the book back.

"I hardly left you all alone—besides, I needed _something _to get that poem out of my head." Even in the darkness Hermione could see Draco cringe and she wanted to erase her words and find some way to compliment the verses. Unfortunately, her pride made her silent and she resolved to stare at Draco in anticipation of a response.

"Was it really that bad?" He wondered after a moment, walking past Hermione to take a seat by the window. Moonlight was streaming in and created a lovely circle of eerily white-blue light on the stone floor, to which Draco took advantage. Hermione, having obviously thought about her destination as well, had brought a lamp which was doing its best to emit an orangey glow from the corner.

"Did you _hear _it?" Hermione joked, following Draco's example and taking a seat by the window. He laughed a little, shaking his head to himself.

"I've never been much of a poet," he confessed, dragging a hand through his hair so that it was pushed back from his face. "I just wanted to make you believe me." Hermione sighed.

"I _do_," she admitted. Draco turned to stare but the way he was sitting made it impossible to decipher his facial expression.

"Then why'd you leave?" He asked, his voice low and questioning. Hermione shrugged albeit uselessly since all Malfoy got from it was the slight rustle of movement.

"I don't know—_I _believed you but I didn't think everyone _else _would. I just—I wanted to think about things and not have Harry and Ron hissing things into my ear about how you would just hurt me or whatnot." Draco nodded.

"I can see how that would be a downside." He paused, recalling Hermione's latest admittance. "What about Ginny?" He asked finally, wondering how the youngest Weasley had managed to escape criticism. Hermione shrugged.

"Ginny agrees with you."

"Smart girl," Draco smirked; genuinely surprised that Ginny was so in favor of him. He certainly didn't _deserve_ it. "But what about you?"

"I think you're crazy." Draco had to smile—at least she wasn't angry.

"Poor people are crazy Hermione. I'm eccentric." This worked to cheer her up a little, educing a small grin of amusement.

"Whatever you say," she mused, shivering slightly as a sudden chill raced up from the stone floor and through her body. She glanced around, searching for the source of the draft but found little more than a high window that may or may not have had a crack. Draco however was watching Hermione and immediately shrugged off his heavy Slytherin cloak. Holding it out to Hermione, he gestured that she take it.

"Don't you need it?" Hermione asked, taking notice of the strong draft in the room. She had on her robes _and _a sweater and was still shivering. Draco however merely shrugged.

"No—you've forgotten that I'm already cloaked in failure." Hermione couldn't check her laughter this time and Draco delighted in watching her brown tresses shake around her shoulders. Hesitantly she took the robe and fixed it around her shoulders, taking comfort in both the warmth it provided and the lingering smell of its blond owner.

"So," Hermione began tentatively, "what exactly are we doing? Now, I mean." Draco looked thoughtful.

"Well," he began, trying to get the distracting image of Hermione in his clothes out of his head long enough to come up with a response, "I have chased you around the castle, dragged you out of your common room, relayed my theories regarding counterparts and whatnot, read you a poem that I wrote _and _have supplied Potter and Weasley with countless hours of ammunition with which to torture me. I do believe it's your turn to do something." Hermione nodded.

"I suppose you're right." There was silence save for the rattling of a high window. Draco grew impatient.

"Well?" Hermione looked startled.

"Well what?"

"Well, what are you going to do then?" Hermione shrugged.

"What do _you_ want to do?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I think you know perfectly well what I want to do Granger," he growled in a low voice. Hermione laughed. Then, in case she didn't get the hint, he went on to clarify. "I want you to be my girlfriend." Hermione sighed. _I was afraid of that_. Yet, to her surprise, she also found that she wasn't as against the idea as she thought she would be.

"We can't do that it would never work" she admitted begrudgingly. _I can see it now, "Harry, Ron—Malfoy and I are officially dating_." _That would go over like a lead balloon._ Still, she couldn't help feeling bad when she admitted it. Draco however didn't look so convinced.

"How do you know? You've never tried it." Hermione glanced at him skeptically.

"Well, yeah, but I've never tried shooting myself in the head either. It doesn't mean I'm going to go out and try _that_." Draco chuckled at this, shaking his head slightly.

"You aren't going to make this easy, are you?" Draco hadn't been expecting a response, but that didn't stop him from being surprised at the awkward silence that blanketed the duo. Hermione seemed unnerved by this as well and quickly moved to break the stillness.

"This cloak is so nice—are all the Slytherin robes like this?" Hermione wondered, vaguely jealous. Her own school robes were light but rough, itching any uncovered skin as if out for revenge. Draco glanced over.

"No—my mother has all of my robes specially made by the family tailor." Draco remembered his first year when he had gone to get his robes done. That had been his first encounter with Potter, yet that wasn't why the memory was stuck so permanently in his head. It was because of the tantrum his mother had thrown when, upon getting his robes home, she had discovered a noticeable run along the hemline. She had practically ripped the garment to shreds and had called in the family tailor the next morning, making sure every stitch was exactly how she wanted them. Ever since that day she had had all of Draco's clothes—school related and otherwise—custom made. He had gone back to the original robe shop on a few occasions but only to get the latest patterns for the tailor. _At least that explains where I got it_, Draco thought to himself, laughing softly. There was no question that his mother was high maintenance and some—_okay, most people_—would argue that he was the same way. Realizing that this may seem a bit ostentatious to Hermione though, Draco smiled teasingly. "Clothes make the man, you know." Hermione looked as if she were thinking deeply about this.

"Yes, I believe you're quite right. Naked people have little or no influence on society," she pointed out sagely, a playful twinkle in her eyes. Draco laughed along with her, staring at the brunette. He could tell she was trying to divert the conversation away from the pressing topic at hand and he wanted desperately to refocus it. As fun as joking around with Hermione _was_, Draco was also eager to get a straight answer.

"So, honestly Hermione. Will you do it?" Draco demanded suddenly, and to his surprise, Hermione looked as if she had been anticipating this. She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Gods—you sound like you're concocting a business deal."

"Answer the question." Hermione sighed. She wanted to. She really did. She just—she didn't want to mess things up. _Why does life have to be so complicated? _Hermione asked herself, fidgeting with a rebel strand of hair that had broken free of her thick braid. _Why does everything have to be so confusing? Gods, battling Voldemort was loads easier than _this. _At least Harry and Ron still liked me after those encounters. _Still, Hermione couldn't seem to get Ginny's voice out of her head. _Take a chance, you're the happiest you've been in the past seven years._ Hermione paused. _It isn't as if this is first year anymore—Draco has changed. All of us have changed. You don't know what's going to happen today or tomorrow—you've just got to go with the moment. Come on Hermione, do something impulsive for once! _

"Okay."

Draco froze. _Did she just say 'okay'?_

"Did you just say okay?" Hermione nodded, her eyes wide. _This is it_. _You're doing it._

"Why—are you having second thoughts?" Panic coursed through Hermione's body. Had she waited too long? Had he gotten tired of asking her? A million what-ifs raced through Hermione's head as she attempted (in a very Hermione-like way) to analyze the situation.

"No—are you?" Draco clarified quickly, nervous that she was trying to weasel out of it.

"No." And then there was silence. Outside the clouds moved across the moon, obscuring the circle of white light on the floor. Somewhere in the distance something was howling at the moon. But the two students in the Astronomy Tower had never been quieter.

"So," Hermione said finally, suddenly self-conscious, "What now?" Draco grinned.

Now _this _was a question he had an answer for.

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**Authoress' Note: I had trouble with the ruler in this chapter, as in, it wouldn't show up. I did my best by just doing "X's" to separate the sources from the story and the disclaimer stuff above, but if it comes out funny, that's why. **

Sources:

"Do you want my jacket….I don't need it, I'm cloaked in failure." **Was from the movie _Jerry Maguire_**

"I didn't see you"

"Your aim suggests otherwise" **Was from the movie _Ever After_**

"You're crazy"

"Poor people are crazy, I'm eccentric." **Was from the movie _Speed_**

"We can't do that"

"How do you know, you've never tried"

"Well, yeah, but I never tried shooting myself in the head either." **Was from the movie _The African Queen_**

"Is this a kissing book?" **Was from the movie/book The Princess Bride**

"Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." **Was a quote from Mark Twain**


	17. Quad nesciunt eos non interficiet

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Author's Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

**Authoress' Note: My ruler thing is still broken. So lines of "X's" it is...**

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Chapter Seventeen: _Quad nesciunt eos non interficiet_ (What they don't know won't kill them)

_"Still, kisses should be used for good and not evil."_

-Unknown

"No."

Draco sighed. This wasn't going as well as he had hoped.

"Hermione—you _have _to." Now it was Hermione's turn to look annoyed. She sighed. She squinted her eyes and crossed her arms. She tapped her foot.

"I don't _have to _do _anything_," she corrected, pouting slightly at her boyfriend of three days. Three days. Three full days of being Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. The information had barely settled in with _Hermione_ and now Draco wanted her to go blab to her friends? There was little or no chance of _that _ever happening. _I'll tell Ginny_, Hermione resigned, figuring that out of all of them, Ginny would be the most supportive. But she couldn't bring herself to tell either Harry or Ron, cringing at the mere _thought _of how they would react. Draco looked properly put-out and plopped down heavily on the common room sofa, rubbing his face with his hands.

"_Hermione_," Draco whined, blinking his icy irises towards his cohort, "why are you being so stubborn about this?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why are _you _being so stubborn about this? You haven't told any of _your _friends—why do I have to tell all of _mine_?" She demanded. If there was one thing that Hermione was big on it was fairness—and if Draco hadn't done something, she sure wasn't going to let him force _her _into doing it.

"Yes, well, we aren't going to go to Hogsmeade with all of _my _friends for holiday shopping now, are we? Plus, Potter and Weasley keep thinking that you rejected my poem—every time I see them they get these dopey looks on their faces. Normally I wouldn't think anything of it (Draco pretended not to notice Hermione's glare) but I know they're just remembering the blasted poem and thinking how I've been completely snubbed."

"So you want me to tell my friends—and potentially ruin a seven year friendship—just so that you can keep your bloody pride?" Hermione demanded tetchily, raising an eyebrow at Draco who sighed.

"No," he began, standing up from the couch and stepping closer to Hermione, "I want you to tell them so we can finally act like a couple _outside _of this room." Cupping her face in his hands, Draco placed a gentle peck on the tip of Hermione's nose, smiling when he saw the roses rise to her cheeks. She always blushed when he touched her—as if each move was unexpected. Even if they were making their rounds and his fingers innocently graced hers, a rosy hue would grace her lightly-bronzed countenance. Despite his advances though, and the annoying way Hermione's skin was tingling from his touch, Hermione shook her head, her mouth set into a petulant pout.

"Well it would hardly do if I tell all my friends and then you leave yours in the dark. I would be walking around dodging spells from all of your followers." Draco rubbed his forehead.

"If I tell my friends will you tell yours?"

"No."

"Hermione—why are you making all of this so bleeding _difficult_? You should be _proud _of me for trying to include Potter and Weasley in on our excitement." Hermione laughed out loud.

"Oh please—don't try and play that card on me. You know I want to include them in on our 'excitement'. _You _just want to include them in on this in the vague hopes that they will be undeniably jealous and so you can save your bloody pride." Draco shrugged, holding up his arms as if to gesture that it was out of his hands.

"I merely want you to stop fretting. You're no fun when you're a bundle of nerves. I'm only thinking of _you_." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"How altruistic."

"I thought so." Draco paused, leading Hermione over to the couch where he proceeded to sit her down on the couch. "So—when will you be telling them? Tomorrow at breakfast?"

"No."

"Lunch then?"

"_No_." Draco pouted comically, tilting his head curiously to the side.

"I think supper is a bit late Hermione. It's already been three days." Hermione was about to argue when she felt Draco's lips crash down on her own. She was always caught off guard by these affections and now was no exception. She stumbled slightly, stabilized only when Draco's hand caught at the small of her back and drew her in close. She could smell his body and whatever scent he used on his hair, mingled together to create something akin to cinnamon and woods. Hermione had to stop herself from laughing when the image of Draco walking through the woods with a sack of cinnamon became too much. She couldn't even imagine him walking through the _woods_. One thing he lacked when compared with Harry was definitely the adventure gene. Sure Draco was good when thrown _in _to the situation, but he didn't necessarily feel the need to go out and meet it head on. The terror of the Forbidden Forrest his first year had been well enough to satiate his thirst for the outdoors for the next decade or so, and combined with the few or so encounters he had had in the woods since, Draco felt that all alfresco obligations were taken care of for the better part of his lifetime.

Hermione was surprised, but not disappointed to find that whilst mulling this over, she had refrained from participating in the offending osculation, and while she had not joined in, she had yet to push him away either. When Draco finally pulled away, bored with lack of counter activity, Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know you can't just kiss me every time we disagree over something and you want to change my mind," she informed him hotly, crossing her arms across her chest. This only worked to amuse Draco though who smirked devilishly, stepping closer to the unsuspecting Hermione once more. When he spoke again his lips were so close to hers that he barely had to speak the words at all, as Hermione's lips worked as deaf hands over his mouth, sounding out each word and letter along with him.

"Yes, but I can certainly try."

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Half an hour later Hermione was climbing through the portrait hole of the Heads common room in favor of a much more familiar, yet much-less inviting one. Hermione's mind was made up once more—although her current state was slightly altered from her original plan of never telling Harry and Ron about any of it. _Damn Draco_, Hermione thought to herself, stomping through the half-empty corridor. _Damn Draco and his impressive methods of making me change my mind_.

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Harry Potter sat across from Ron, genuinely pleased with his seventh year of school. It wasn't _completely_ pleasing—what with the lack of relationship between Ginny and himself, and the complete lack of hate between Hermione and Malfoy. Not to mention the fact that Ron was currently beating him quite thoroughly at their third game of chess. Other than those grievances however, the year was looking pretty good.

Contrary to what the Slytherins (and a few Ravenclaws) believed, Harry was not completely naïve. He knew that just because he had not received any death threats as of yet, that he was in the clear. As long as the horocruxes were still out there, so was Voldemort and the threat he posed was as strong as ever. Due, Harry strongly believed, in large part because he was facing his own mortality. With another horocrux destroyed and Harry at the peak of his anger as the deaths of his friends and mentors growing, it was only a matter of time before a blow-out battle came to a head. He had yet to tell his friends but Harry knew that when the final battle came, he would go into it alone. It would be as it had started—with Harry facing Voldemort—and in the fashion of historical repetition, Harry would win. Or at least, he hoped so.

"Check mate."

Harry glanced down at the game, realizing that once again he had lost the elusive wizrd's chess. _If this is all preparation for the final battle you're doing a damn shoddy job_, Harry chided himself, replacing his barely-advanced game pieces.

"Do you want to go again?" Ron asked, but already his pieces were setting up, twisted grins of grim satisfaction on their chiseled countenances. Harry glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. They had an hour before Quidditch practice—a sufficient amount of time for Ron to beat him again and again.

"Why not?" Harry agreed, noting the excited expression spread across Ron's face. Ron didn't have much that he excelled at, being a nervous Quidditch player and a mediocre student. He could get frustrated easily and because of that, Harry tended to let Ron choose the activities every now and then.

Unfortunately, neither boy had time to make a move as Hermione stepped through the portrait hole, her hair swinging loosely around her shoulders.

"Oh good, you're both here," Hermione said by way of greeting upon seeing the two boys, although her expression was anything but glad.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked, turning away from the chessboard to his players' chagrin. "You're as pale as Nearly-Headless Nick. Is something wrong? Have you heard something about Voldemort?" Ron's voice grew into a whisper, his brow furrowing in a troubled expression. Hermione shook her head, feeling slightly guilty. On one hand she was relieved to not be fearing for her life and dodging death threats every other day, but on the other hand Hermione felt bad about not doing more for the war. It was just that for the past seven years Hermione had been spending every waking moment fighting for a cause that she felt helpless against. Now though she was taking a well-deserved break. _It isn't as if I've given it up completely_, Hermione comforted herself, pulling a chair up next to the game and the two boys.

"No, nothing like that. I did have something I wanted to tell you two though." Harry looked concerned.

"Should we wait for Ginny?"

"No, it's okay. I think she pretty much knows anyway," Hermione said indifferently, "I mainly wanted to talk you two anyway."

"What about?" Harry asked, pulling a sweet from the depths of his robes. Hermione took a steadying breath. This was it. Even though Hermione was smart enough to know that seven years of dedicated friendship would not be forgotten over her latest resolution, she also knew that seven years of a well-groomed rivalry wouldn't be forgotten either. Still, they had to know.

"Well, you know the upcoming Hogsmeade trip?" Harry nodded but Ron looked put out.

"You're not leaving us again, are you? I refuse to go alone with Harry and Ginny—they make kissy faces whenever they _think _no one's looking!" Harry beamed red.

"We do not!" He called out, although Hermione noticed a distinct denial was lacking from his tone. She smiled briefly at this, _Maybe there's hope for them yet, _but sobered instantly when she remembered her purpose for the visit.

"No—I'm still going. I just, I wanted to bring someone." At Harry and Ron's raised eyebrows, Hermione sighed, closing her eyes tiredly. "Okay, it's Draco. I wanted to bring Draco." The silence was deafening. _Say something, say something_, she begged silently, peeking an eye open just to make sure Voldemort hadn't swooped in and struck her cohorts dead. When she opened her eyes she was relieved to find both boys very much alive.

"You want to bring _Malfoy_?" Ron yelled out, his gaze horror-stricken, "What, is there some ritual sacrifice I didn't know about? Maybe a 'bring-your-own-Deatheater' party? Gee, I wonder if Zabini is available on such short notice," Ron continued, nearly hysterical. Hermione merely rolled her eyes.

"Ronald—don't be so absurd. I want to bring him as a…friend." Somehow, Hermione figured the word "boyfriend" wouldn't go over so well.

"Why isn't he going with his _other _friends—I know he must have some," Harry offered up somewhat reasonably. He looked more confused than angry—something Hermione took as a good sign. If she could get him to side with her over Ron who looked neither understanding nor accepting, than she would at least have the majority.

"Yes, he does have other friends. He just—well, _we _just—want to spend some time together as a…well, you know."

"A couple?" Harry offered and took her instant rouge as confirmation. "You two are _dating_?" The words felt foreign in his mouth. Hermione—_dating_? He didn't know why it should seem so alien to him. Over the years he had come to regard Hermione as well, just one of the guys. It was different with Ginny because he had an attraction to her, but with Hermione he had never felt anything other than friendship. Granted it was a very _strong _feeling of friendship—especially when she was saving his life or something of the like—but Harry's feelings had never expanded beyond likeability and because of that the idea that someone else saw Hermione as a _girl, _and a _dateable _one at that, was strange to him. Perhaps, had he grown up with siblings, he would have understood his confusion, but since he hadn't, Harry regarded the situation with curiosity and unease.

"Since when?" Ron wanted to know. His tone was still fierce and demanding but Hermione thought his features had relaxed a little.

"Since the night he read that poem." Hermione paused, counting. "So about three days now."

"Three days? _Three _days? You waited _three days _to tell us? Why?"

"Because I wanted to _enjoy_ it a little before you came and rained on my parade. Believe it or not I _was _happy about this." Ron, ignoring the jab, looked at his friend incredulously.

"And how, pray tell, did _that _poem woo you? It was the worst poetry I've ever heard!"

"Oh come on Ron, it's likely the _only _poem you've ever heard!" The moment the words came out of her mouth Hermione wanted to backtrack. Harry and Ron's meager study habits were legendary and it was no secret that Hermione often helped the two with their school work. Never before though had _any _of them referred to another as lacking in any sort of way. It was merely that they didn't _try_—they certainly never alluded to the fact that there was a certain pecking order based on brains in which Hermione was the clear winner and Ron was the one bringing up the rear.

"Ron, I'm so sorry—," Hermione began but stopped suddenly when Ron jumped up, upsetting both the game board and a group of panicky third years.

"No—Hermione he's already changing you! Sure he wants to go to Hogsmeade with us, but what next? Dragging you to the Malfoy Manner for Christmas? A Deatheater party for New Year's?" Hermione forced a weak smile.

"Ron don't be absurd. The best Deatheater parties don't start until mid-January."

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron yelped, matching expressions of horror painted across their faces. Hermione simply rolled her eyes.

"Relax—I was just trying to get a laugh. You two are so touchy though. Can't you understand that I've thought about this a lot and I'm doing what makes me happy?" Both boys seemed to consider this. She was right. It _was _Hermione after all—the girl didn't even eat _breakfast _before researching it first. If she had made a decision as big as the one she was currently discussing there had to have been a _lot _of considerations that neither boy could have imagined. It was for that reason alone—pure trust in Hermione's judgment skills—that both boys found themselves sighing in defeat.

"Okay Hermione—we obviously can't stop you from hanging yourself." At Hermione's dismayed expression, Harry stepped in.

"We may not agree with you, but we'll give Malfoy a chance. For you," Harry reasoned for both Ron and himself. Hermione relaxed. Good. They were considering it.

"So Draco can go with us to Hogsmeade?" Ron nodded begrudgingly, taking Harry's cue. "Oh thank you!" Hermione squealed, drawing both boys in for a grateful hug. Ron stepped back, his eyes locked on Hermione's.

"But if I even _glimpse _you and Malfoy making kissy faces at eachother I just may kill myself." Hermione smiled wryly.

"Dually noted."

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Sources:

"We obviously can't stop her from hanging herself" is from _Project Runway_


	18. Non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Authoress' Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

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Chapter Eighteen:_ Non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis_ (Not for you, not for me, but for us)

_"Doubt that the stars are fire;_

_Doubt that the sun doth move;_

_Doubt truth to be a liar;_

_But never doubt I love."_

-Shakespeare

"Why am I doing this?"

"You know why."

"But how did you ever convince me to _go_?" Draco wanted to know, staring at the three Gryffindors in front of him. A smile crept to Draco's face as he began to recall exactly how Hermione had convinced him to accompany her and the Gryffindor entourage on this latest Hogsmeade outing.

"You know how," Hermione said simply, stepping in on his thoughts.

"Yes, but that's all over now. I don't want to go with them anymore!" Draco whined in a tone that mimicked a sleep-deprived three year old.

"Shhh—they'll hear you!" Hermione snapped sharply, elbowing Draco in the ribs. He winced.

"Gods Granger—do you have to be so _violent_?" Draco groaned, nursing his achy ribs.

"I often find it's the only method you respond to," Hermione noted simply, pulling him towards the tiny group. Her arrival was met pleasantly, although when Harry and Ron caught sight of Draco their ebullient expressions soured.

"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted in an attempt to remain cool with the situation. He turned to Draco and tried to keep his tone cheery. "Hello."

"Hey," Malfoy replied dimly, taking a sudden interest in his shuffling feet. He felt like he used to when he was younger and his mother would drag him around to various parties and gatherings. She was forever introducing him to other children, usually loathsome, and forcing them to be companions for the duration of the carouse. They would be awkward, forced alliances that inevitably left both parties with a sudden interest in the ground, quite similar to the actions of the three boys.

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked brightly in an attempt to inspire conversation amongst the motley crew. Harry turned to Hermione, grateful for the reprieve.

"She forgot something in the dorms. She'll be here any minute now," Harry explained, ruffling his hair. Hermione thought instantly of the picture of his parents' picture in the Heads common room. James was forever ruffling his dark hair and Lily was always rolling her eyes, a smitten grin settling beneath her annoyance. _I have to show him_, Hermione concluded, resigning to invite him up the next time the opportunity arose.

"I'm here—sorry I'm late!" Ginny called cheerfully, racing down from the castle. Ron looked ready to complain when Draco stepped up, a forgiving smirk falling over his features.

"If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn? Nobody," he commented lightly. Harry and Ron looked leery of this but Ginny smiled broadly under the comment.

"I heartily agree," she approved with a note of surprise. Harry pretended to try and show Ginny something but it didn't escape Hermione how Harry stepped deliberately between Draco and Ginny. On one hand it made Hermione smile—the obvious protectiveness that came naturally to Harry over Ginny. On the other hand though, Hermione was angry. _Are they ever going to trust him?_ She wondered. She knew that Draco wasn't about to be welcomed with open arms, but she had hoped something in the vicinity of indifference would at least transpire between the trio of boys. All that was currently present however was in the category of annoyance and wariness.

"Stop."

Hermione, caught off guard by the stern syllable hissed in her ear, looked blankly at Draco.

"What?" She asked innocently, noting the pain etched across his forehead. Draco gestured to where she was holding his wrist, her nails embedded into his skin.

"Your death grip—trying to draw blood?" He asked and Hermione flushed, dropping his wrist as if it had suddenly caught afire.

"Oh, no. Sorry," she apologized quickly. Draco however looked amused and brushed her fingers with his own.

"It's okay—I just didn't want you to be confused when you had chunks of flesh under your nails later." Despite her embarrassment Hermione made a face.

"How thoughtful."

"You know—if you're into that stuff I have a few tricks of my own—," Draco trailed off.

"I'm sure you do," Hermione said, her eyebrows raised, trying to suppress a laugh. Draco shook his head, smiling to himself.

"Who would have thought—bookish, Hermione Granger has a kinky side? Parkinson and the boys will be positively _shocked_."

"You wouldn't dare," Hermione challenged, hoping she was right. "Please tell me that you don't disclose the sordid details of our relationship with 'Parkinson and the boys'." Harry, Ginny and Ron all raised their eyebrows, glancing at their fellow Gryffindor.

"Sordid?" They chorused, shifting curious glances towards Draco. He shrugged.

"I'm just as shocked as the lot of you." Hermione fumed.

"You are incorrigible!" She snapped at Draco who merely laughed.

"And you love me for it."

"Oh please, I doubt your own _mother _loves you."

"And you sound so sure that she _does_."

It was times like these that Hermione worried there was something wrong with her and her relationship with Draco. The only time she felt really comfortable was when they were both arguing. She remembered reading a magazine once with an article about _Five Signs that your Relationship Won't Last _and although Hermione couldn't remember the exact warning signs she guessed that constant bickering was a pretty good indicator that something was wrong. Hermione couldn't help it though—she couldn't seem to stop herself from picking fights with the boy.

In the evenings, when Hermione and Draco were doing their rounds or enjoying the privacy of their commons, Hermione felt immeasurably awkward. She didn't know what to say to him or how to act. Her movements were all robotic and gauche, all conversation was forced. It was as if she were just meeting Draco and becoming all of the giggly half-wits that Hermione single-handedly blamed for all of women's gender-equality issues.

Fighting, on the other hand, tended to bring out the best of Hermione. It was, in fact, her main method of gathering information about her mysterious beau. No subject was taboo—they touched on everything from 'Mudblood' to Draco's brief dapple in necromancy and the dark arts. _It isn't so weird_, Hermione tried to reason_, at least we communicate._ Yeah, if you can count various insults and sharp comebacks as _communicating_.

"So where should we go first?"

Harry had taken the break in the bickering as an opportunity to delegate a destination. The others paused, thinking.

"We could split up boys and girls and then meet up again later," Ginny suggested, slinking a possessive arm through Hermione's. Hermione however looked hesitant.

"I don't know," she said slowly, glancing between Draco and Harry who looked equally unsure. "Do you think you'll be okay?" Draco laughed out loud.

"Contrary to what you may believe Granger, I've managed the past seventeen years perfectly fine. A few hours with Potter and Weasley won't kill me." Not to be outdone by Draco's uncharacteristic acceptance of the situation, Harry rushed to agree.

"Yeah Hermione—don't worry. We'll be nice, I promise."

"And Ron?" Hermione glanced over to Ron who had been silent for the majority of the trip thus far. He looked offended to have been singled out but shrugged accordingly.

"Yes Hermione—I promise to play nice," he agreed, sounding as if he had been scolded by his mother for some offense. It didn't seem to faze Hermione though who relaxed immediately.

"Okay. I guess I'll see you later then," Hermione agreed hesitantly. Draco nodded, brushing her forehead so quickly with his lips that Hermione barely knew whether or not a real contact had been made at all.

Fortunately, Ron's nauseated facial expression erased all doubts.

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"I've been thinking."

Draco quietly shut the book he had been reading and rolled his eyes.

"Oh great," he mumbled sarcastically, smoothing back his hair and turning to stare at Hermione. She looked slightly put out.

"Don't use that tone with me—you don't even know what I was going to say!"

"But I _do _know that every time you start thinking _I _always get put into awkward positions, or get some sort of unpleasant work to do," Draco noted matter-of-factly. Hermione looked shocked.

"You said today wasn't so bad!"

"Yeah—once we met back up with you and Ginny. Shopping solo with Potter and Weasley though was not quite how I wanted to spend my day."

"What do you mean?" When the trio of boys had shown up at the pub, all with their original limbs and other various appendages intact, Hermione had taken that as a good sign. Now though she was racking her brain for any memories of their facial expressions—had they looked bored, annoyed, angry? Hermione couldn't recall but none seemed too far off.

"What I mean is that the three of us have nothing in common besides you and Quidditch—both of which Weasley seemed reluctant to talk about. I ended up talking to Potter for two hours about various makes of snitches." Hermione looked confused.

"Wait, there are different makes of the _snitch_?"

"Not the point," Draco said sharply, recalling the moment with disfavor.

He had been reluctant to go on the Hogsmeade outing in the first place and things had seemed to get even gloomier when Hermione and Ginny had gone off. Harry and Ron had tried to be nice about the whole thing in the beginning although as with all good things, it came to an end rather quickly. What had started as a simple glance into one of the various Quidditch shops had quickly turned into something ugly and all three boys had been escorted outside with the threat that if they returned, they would face more dire consequences. The bickering hadn't ended there either and had in fact carried on down several other streets and into various shops until they had fianlly run out of places to go. Harry and Ron were both angry that Draco didn't seem to care much about Hermione and doubted his aloof approach to all things regarding their friend. And Draco was just annoyed by Harry and Ron's heroics, thinking that for once the two should just mind their own business. After they ran out of hexes and insults though, the three boys had been forced to sit in an angry silence for about a half hour before deciding that it was safe to return to the girls, all promising not to mention anything about the numerous disagreements to either one. They had gone into the pub with fake smiles and cheery words, and had apparently worked some sort of magic as both Hermione and Ginny had expected that the trip had really been some sort of remarkable male-bonding experience.

"Sorry." The two paused. "I did want to talk to you about something though. Something important." Draco sobered up immediately. _Oh gods, I knew this day would come eventually. Whenever a girl wants to talk about something it means that I'm in trouble_.

"Out with it," Draco urged, irritated by Hermione's serious visage. She sighed.

"Well, I wanted to do something." Draco waited for Hermione to continue but when she didn't, he felt himself only getting more annoyed.

"Come _on _Hermione—Gods, I don't have all night!"

"Fine—if you're going to be so _touchy _about it! I was just wondering if we could have Harry up here to see the picture of his parents."

Draco was surprised. He actually craned around to see the picture in question. It had become so much a part of his normal day that he barely noticed it anymore. He knew Potter would love to see it—the boy tended to get emotional over those types of scenes and gestures. Still though, the idea of spending another _second _with the boy was too much to handle. He glanced over to Hermione. She was still staring at him, expecting an answer. Her eyes were bright and imploring—hopeful that he would agree. _Would it really matter if I said no?_ Draco found himself wondering. Hermione had a tendency to get what she wanted. Still, she looked as if she were honestly waiting for him to make a decision. Draco sighed. _Damn. _

There was no way he could get out of _this _one.

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Sources:

"If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she's late? Nobody." Is from Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger


	19. O! Plus! Perge! Aio! Hui! Hem!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Authoress' Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

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Chapter Nineteen: _O! Plus! Perge! Aio! Hui! Hem!_ (Oh! More! Go on! Yes! Ooh! Ummm!)

_"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."_

-Pride and Prejudice

Hermione woke up feeling sick and the feeling had progressed from there.

She was nervous, for one, about having Harry into the commons. When she had invited him over the previous evening she had simply expressed that she had something to show him and had neglected to mention what it was exactly. Now though she was beginning to wish that she had somehow prepared him for it. At least then she would know how he was going to feel towards her? Angry that she had kept it from him for so long? Happy that he was seeing his parents? Confused? Hurt? Indifferent? The possibilities were endless and Hermione was driving herself crazy trying to prepare for them all.

Malfoy on the other hand was being no help whatsoever.

He had risen early for Quidditch practice and returned tired and dirty. Noticing Hermione's nervous state he had attempted to avoid her, collapsing vertically on the couch. Unfortunately, this was met with resistance and anger from Hermione who was horrified at the prospect of dirt on the freshly laundered furniture. So after a thorough verbal thrashing, Draco had trudged off to the bathrooms to wash and change into what he hoped was Hermione-approved clothing.

When he returned he was surprised to find Hermione with her head buried in the fireplace.

"That's it," Draco announced so suddenly that Hermione smacked her head on the stone hearth, "you've officially lost it."

"Damnit!" Hermione shrieked, rubbing her smarting skull. She turned furiously towards Draco. "Are you _insane_? That _hurt_!"

"You would have thought that all that hair would have provided some sort of padding," Draco responded calmly, taking a seat on the couch, book in hand. He didn't even have time to crack the spine though before Hermione was at him, completely livid.

"I suggest that if you have any inkling of self-preservation in that thick-skull of yours, you stop talking, _now_." She threatened. Draco smirked.

"I love how you think that after living with Lucius as a father, being inducted into the deatheaters and having _Snape _as Head of my dorm that _you _scare me. It's priceless Granger." Hermione stepped up so that she was looming dangerously close to Draco, her eyes ablaze with fury.

"Am I wrong?" She demanded in such a low and threatening voice that Draco literally gulped.

"I suppose not," he choked out, unsettled by the furious female intimidating him. Draco wasn't stupid—he knew an angry woman was nothing to joke around with. He had seen his mother incensed on a select few occasions in his life—most notably when his father had been admitted to Azkaban—but, terrifying as she was, all of her anger failed to amount to the level of fury Hermione could reach, and so quickly to boot.

"Good," Hermione decided, turning sharply on her heels and storming over to the bookcase where she began to straighten and organize the invisible clutter that she was sure encased the entire room.

"Why are you getting so touchy about all of this? It isn't as if Potter has never seen you. You saw him _yesterday _for Christ's sake."

"I _know _that. But Harry doesn't know about his parent's picture in here. I want things to look nice when he does."

"Well I doubt he'll be looking too much at the rest of the commons," Draco pointed out, much to Hermione's dismay.

"Regardless," she began tiredly, "it doesn't hurt to clean up once in a while." Despite her reprimand, Draco noticed that Hermione was cleaning with slightly less vigor than before. He smirked contentedly.

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Thirty minutes later Hermione was startled out of her cat nap by a gentle knocking at the portrait hole door. She rose from the couch, still heavy with sleep and rubbed gently at her eyes in an attempt to get her bearings. Who was at the door? _Harry_. What time was it?_ Just after noon_. Hermione paused. _That means I've missed lunch then_, she noted dismally, to which he stomach responded with a guttural groan of discord. Another knock sounded, slightly louder and when Hermione paused in answering, Draco walked out from his room.

"Should have known you would try and include me in on this whole thing," he grumbled, walking slowly towards the door. Hermione, her mind still thawing from the nap, merely blinked.

"I was sleeping," she said simply, making to stand from the couch. She carefully slipped into her shoes and began to walk slowly over to Draco. A half smile played on his lips.

"I know, your hair is all messy," he pointed out, sending Hermione scurrying for the mirror in an attempt to tame her riotous locks.

"Thanks," she mumbled sarcastically, walking over to him and trying to ignore the growing self-consciousness in her stomach. Draco merely shrugged as if bored with the exchange.

"I brought you some lunch." He gestured to a tray on the coffee table, previously unnoticed, and Hermione cheered inwardly, resigning to eat it as soon as Harry left.

"Before you let him in I want you to promise that you'll be nice," Hermione stipulated sharply to Draco's extreme annoyance.

"And shall I clean my room up too, Mother?" He teased nastily but Hermione ignored the comment.

"Promise." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he agreed moodily, throwing open the door with fake exuberance. When he spotted Harry his face became dull and empty, his tone dry. "Come on in Potter and try not to ruin everything by being you." Hermione cringed.

"Harry!" She squealed with the gaiety her co-host lacked. "Come on in and don't pay any attention to him." Hermione shot Draco an icy glare, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Quite leering at me Granger, people are going to think I just broke up with you."

"As if I would be that broken up over it," Hermione shot back, although inwardly she began to panic at the idea. She turned to Harry. "Honestly, just don't pay him any attention." Harry smiled, climbing over the threshold.

"I never do," he assured her playfully. "I hope you don't mind—I brought Ron and Ginny." As if on cue the two redheads popped through the portrait hole, grinning broadly.

"Hey Hermione!" The greeted brightly, filing in behind Harry. Draco groaned audibly.

"What's wrong with him?" Ginny asked, jerking her thumb towards Draco who looked pained by the intrusion. Hermione rolled her eyes, waving him off.

"Never mind him. I'm glad you two came," she said easily, leading them all towards the sofa. Ginny looked squeamish.

"We weren't sure if you would be angry or not, but we decided to surprise you anyway," she confessed with a blush. Hermione looked nonplussed.

"Oh, nonsense. We always love to see you guys, right Draco?" Inwardly though, Hermione was a wreck. _Two more people to realize what a horrible friend I've been—keeping Harry away from his parents? What kind of person does that? Who keeps a person away fro a memory of their dead parents? Hermione, you are positively wretched_, she told herself, feeling more dismal by the second. Malfoy, who had been caught off guard by this seemed to sense Hermione's awkwardness and gently closed the portrait hole, turning to stare awkwardly towards the group.

"Oh, uh, yeah. You can never have too many Gryffindors. All that…bravery…in one room," he supplied lamely, realizing that all seats save for one next to Ron were taken. He decided he would be better off to stand. It was only then that he realized Hermione was glaring at him curiously as if trying to decipher whether or not this was some kind of insult. Draco sighed. "No, I'm serious. If uh, Voldemort stopped by I would feel pretty…safe." Hermione, deciding that he was genuinely just feeling awkward, laughed out loud at Draco's pathetic attempt at graciousness.

"I dunno—I think I'd feel safer with you seeing as he's practically your second father," Ginny teased, causing the stiff mood of the room to relax immediately. Draco even smirked a little, shrugging this off.

"I think he has a few debts to settle with me," Draco admitted somewhat sheepishly. The others chuckled lightly at this, even Ron who had seemed determined to remain stony-faced, broke a smile and laughed along with the others. Finally, Harry, looking impatient, stared towards Hermione.

"So, you said you had something important to show me?" He prodded as casually as he could. What Harry had in courage he lacked in patience, having the restraint of a five year old on Christmas morning. He had always hated waiting for things and preferred to meet them head on straightaway, a trait of his father's that explained his apparent "adventure gene". Needless to say his birthday was torture. Even with the Dursley's where he had learned not to expect much, he had always counted down the minutes, delighting in the tiny surge of joy as the clock hit midnight, welcoming him into another year of life. This was no exception. Ever since Hermione had mentioned wanting to show him something the previous evening, he had waited anxiously, unable to keep his eyes off the clock for too long because of some irrational fear that he would get caught up in something and miss the visit completely.

"Oh," Hermione said, her tone and expression sobering simultaneously. "Yes of course. There was something I wanted to show you." She stood up, extending her arm and gaze towards the opposite wall of the room.

"What is it?" Harry wanted to know, turning to see where Hermione was pointing.

"That," she said watching as Harry's gaze flicked over the various portraits, coming to rest on the one of his parents. _That_, Hermione mimicked inwardly, furious at her own lack of elegance and diction. _You prepare all day for how you want to tell him and explain to him about the portraits and the significance of his parent's picture and when the time comes all you can think of to say is 'that'? That wasn't even a sentence! You may as well be a caveman Hermione, you'd be lovely at communicating through grunts! _Hermione continued to chide herself inwardly, furious that she hadn't come up with anything more inspiring than 'that'. Draco it seemed noted her discord because in the middle of her ranting she felt a light hand on her back.

"That was fine," he whispered through a tangle of hair, "look."

"Hermione glanced up and to her surprise found that Draco was right. Harry had risen from his chair and had walked over to his parent's portrait for a better look. His eyes were glossy and his mouth was parted slightly as if transfixed by what he was seeing. Even Lily and James seemed to understand this as a moment of significance and had paused to stare out at the boy in front of them. They hadn't seemed to lose their youthfulness though, Hermione noticed as James snuck up behind Lily, capturing her in his arms. At first she seemed annoyed and attempted to remain smiling prettily at Harry, but soon she gave in and was laughing at something James whispered in her ear.

"Hermione—this, this is incredible. Why didn't you show me any of this before?" Harry wanted to know. Hermione bit her lip. This was the question she had been dreading. How could she explain to her best friend why she had kept something so amazing from him? As it turned out however, Hermione need not have worried as Harry wasn't even paying attention to her. Instead, he had been caught up in James' latest prank which included dragging lily to one of the other paintings—to the current occupant's deep chagrin. Lily looked apologetic but James' expression matched his son's as both boys appeared deliriously happy.

"Wow Hermione, this is so cool!" Ron said loudly, although unlike Harry he was not staring at the pictures. Instead, he was poking at a seldom-used table in one of the far corners. He had lifted off the cover of a mahogany box to find a chess set, to Hermione and Draco's equal surprise.

"Do you even know how rare this is? Each piece is individually carved in the likeness of a real royal witch or wizard!" Hermione, who didn't quite understand the significance of this (and had actually been completely unaware that the common room even _had _a chess set, having forgone opening the mysterious box for the entire school year), turned to Ginny for an explanation.

"There were only a few royals that were actually magic—for some reason they mainly turned out squibs or got dethroned early on. Since there were so few it was hard to tell who was actually magic and who wasn't, so it's rare to find a craftsman who can identify a person for all of the pieces. It's a sign of heavy magic," she whispered, rolling her eyes to show that she was significantly less-impressed than her brother. Ron however was still highly excited.

"Hermione—I have to play on this. Do you think I could come back soon?" Ron begged and Harry, who had really only heard the tail end of Ron's question, agreed.

"Yeah Hermione—do you think I can come back soon? This picture is amazing."

Hermione smiled. He wasn't angry. Her friends still liked her and not only that, but they wanted to come back.

"Yes of course. All three of you are welcome to come whenever you want."

Draco groaned.

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"Will you stop putting your filthy feet on the bloody cushions?"

Draco jumped, nearly dropping his book when Hermione suddenly appeared over him, her wet hair falling like a curtain down over his face, water droplets falling onto his pale visage.

"Gods—you scared the life out of me! When did you come back in?" Last he had known, Hermione was ushering her friends out the door with the promise of many more similar visits and had headed off for a shower in the heads bathroom. Then suddenly she had appeared like a bat out of hell, scaring him to death.

"I came in ten minutes ago," she said, her brow furrowing in concern, "I sat out here for a minute and ate the food you brought me," she continued in an attempt to jolt the memory. Draco still looked perplexed.

"What are you saying now?" He wondered unconcernedly, attempting to find his spot in the book.

"Draco—we _talked _to eachother! Do you really not remember any of this?" She demanded, slightly miffed. If she could be so easily forgotten in ten minutes, what did that say about her character? "I can't believe you! You are so inconsiderate…."

Draco smiled slightly, tuning Hermione out for the moment. He knew this would only work to make her angrier, but he honestly didn't care. He liked this with her. The arguments. The bickering. She had spirit—and to Draco, who had been raised to contain himself—that was one of the most inspiring things he could imagine. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how he had gotten himself into the situation—liking _Granger_. Liking a _Gryffindor_. It was so unreal. If anyone had suggested over the summer that by Christmas he would be dating _Hermione _he would have called up St. Mungo's and admitted said person on the spot. Still, it was where he found himself and for the moment he wanted nothing more. He knew how things would go. They would argue for a while, finally making up with some surprisingly passionate osculations (who knew Granger had it in her?) before heading off to their respective bedrooms. It was a delightful pattern which Draco had come to look forward to.

"Are you even _listening _to me? You aren't, are you? Out of all the incorrigible, inconsiderate..."

Draco almost couldn't contain himself. He wanted to look up at Hermione and see the fire and passion in her eyes. He wanted to shoot insults back and forth until the sexual tension was too much for both of them to handle. He sighed, reluctantly containing himself for the moment. There would be time for that later. Now though, he was just focused on getting her really fired up and angry. It was a simple fact. When they fought the worst they made up the best. Smiling to himself, Draco settled back into the couch, preparing himself for a night of bickering.

It would be years before either would think to call it foreplay.

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**Authoress' Note: **One more chapter to come!

Sources:

"Quite leering at me, people are going to think I just broke up with you" was from the movie _Dogma_

"Come on in and try not to ruin everything by being you" was from the movie _As Good as it Gets_


	20. Obesa cantavit

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this. I will also forewarn that I absolutely love quotes and collect them like crazy from all over, including but not limited to movies, books, plays, conversations and anywhere else. I will incorporate quotes in this story and will do my best to credit them at the end of each chapter. However, I am human and do make mistakes, and therefore I would appreciate greatly if someone would notify me if I misquote or forget to credit someone. In some instances, I do not know where/who the quote came from and will credit them as "unknown". If anyone _does _know where they come from I would greatly appreciate hearing from them.

**Authoress' Note:** This story is, above all, a romance story. I have read the latest installment of Harry Potter (Half Blood Prince) and will try to incorporate as much as I can into this fiction. However, I'm not great at action sequences and angst, so don't be surprised if I neglect to add some of the more intricate parts of the book-plot into this story. Example, Dumbledore is still dead, but the trio will return to school for their seventh year, McGonagall is the new headmistress but the horocrux thing probably won't make a huge appearance in this. Thank you and enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty: _Obesa cantavit_ (The fat lady has sung)

_And she thinks, "Hey,_

_How did I come to this?_

_I dreamed myself a million times around the world,_

_How did it end like this?"_

-Dave Mathews Band, "Grey Street"

Alice Greensburg climbed up the fifth winding stairway in three minutes and was greeted with the entrance to the Heads dormitory. _Finally_, she cheered inwardly, her tired limbs delighting in the reprieve. _You'll get used to it in time—everyone does_, McGonagall's voice echoed through her head. Alice sighed. At the time she hadn't believed the aging headmistress, assuming that the trek wouldn't be as painful as McGonagall had made it out to be. Now though, Alice was wishing she had paid a bit more attention to the woman who had tried in vain to offer various energy-saving tips on the trip up.

Stepping off of the staircase, Alice made a beeline for the portrait and was surprised to find Collin Johnston, her co-head, lounging dismally against the wall.

"What are you doing here? How did you get up here so fast?" Alice demanded. She had been so antsy during dinner that she had left the second her plate was cleared. She had proceeded to run the stairways and hallways with great speed (_not _one of the recommendations from McGonagall) and had arrived, at least she thought so, quite early. Collin merely shrugged.

"I skipped dinner and sorting. I came up straight when we got here," he explained wearily, obviously regretting his choice. Alice looked baffled.

"You didn't even go to the _sorting_?" She asked, wracking her brain. That had been at _least _a few hours ago. "How long have you been waiting?" Collin shrugged again, rubbing at his bored face with his hands as if to instill life into his weary visage.

"Not long…two, three hours…."

"Collin!" Alice shrieked, a little louder than she had intended. The journey up to the common room had left her short of breath, causing her tone to rise and fall unintentionally as she struggled to regain normalcy. "Why didn't you go inside?"

"I forgot the password—I wasn't really listening through McGonagall's spiel," the towheaded boy admitted with a sheepish grin. Alice, having regained a limited control over her breath and afflictions, sighed audibly, rolling her eyes.

"Oh _honestly_," she moaned, storming past her cohort towards the painting. She relayed the password quickly to the portrait that appeared annoyed, and stepped through, glancing back over her shoulder to shout, "I do not know how you became Head Boy at all, Collin. You're about as useful as a wet rag." Collin, who had followed her through the portrait gratefully, rolled his eyes. Did she have to be so _annoying_? It was as if it was encoded in her DNA. Since first year, Alice Greensburg had worked to annoy him mercilessly. They were both Ravenclaws, but unlike most of their dorm who preferred to keep a low profile most of the time, Alice never failed to let people know that she was supposed to be unendingly clever. On top of all that, she was completely mad about her schoolwork. He had never seen a girl who studied more. _Honestly_, Collin thought to himself, staring into the dimly-lit room_, just because we're Ravenclaws doesn't mean we have to study forty-eight hours a day_.

"Collin—_look_," Alice breathed excitedly, all bother for the boy momentarily forgotten. Alice, unlike her slightly-distracted co-head, had been taking in the room and was as impressed with it as anyone could be. "Isn't this _amazing_?" She used the moment to practically _skip _around the room, taking in its splendor—_or lack thereof_, Collin thought bitterly to himself. He came from a proud pureblood family and in his mind the common room was severely lacking in several luxury items to be described as _amazing_.

"It isn't as if it's a palace Greensburg," Collin noted dully, collapsing heavily onto the ancient couch. He was beginning to regret having skipped dinner, an apparently his stomach was too as it was currently growling with hunger pains. Alice ignored his comment though, twirling around to catch the full effect of the room.

Alice came from a pureblood family too and was in fact, rather wealthy, but that didn't stop her from being delighted by the simple elegance of the Heads common room. It was simply _wonderful_. The rows and rows of bookcases, the majestic marble fireplace that had surely floo-ed a number of important people, the ancient looking furniture that undoubtedly seated some of the most important members of the wizarding world at one point or another. It was all just _incredible_. Being in the same room as greatest seemed to inspire similar feelings in Alice who refused to be deterred by her co-Heads lack of enthusiasm. There was no doubt that the room was simple—lacking any clinquant adornments or flashy pieces—but it was _hers_. _Well, mine and Johnston's anyway, but mine nonetheless_, Alice reminded herself. It was private and pretty and she was positive that she would be able to get _loads _of studying in. It was the perfect atmosphere for learning—quiet and peaceful and oddly inspiring at the same time.

Collin watched Alice's face as it underwent various emotions from undeniably excited to thoughtful to relaxed. _Oh gods, she's going to be a piece of work_, he thought to himself, slightly daunted by the information. She had always been a bit too much for him and he didn't relish the idea of spending the majority of his time with the blond-haired girl. All Collin wanted to do was _relax_. It had been a tiring train ride (complete with a lengthy lecture to boot) and an even more exhausting trip in trying to find the dormitory and Collin was quite prepared to crawl into bed and remain there for several hours. Alice however seemed unsympathetic to his desires and insisted on showing him every piece of the room that she found.

"Oh Collin–_look _at this chess set! Do you know how much work went into it? It's positively _beautiful_!" Collin peeked an eye open, glancing quickly towards the game in question.

"I have one at home," he muttered, hoping to curb some of her enthusiasm, but Alice didn't seem to notice, prancing towards the bookcases.

"_Look _at all of these books! I could stay up here all year and read every day and not get through a _third _of them! It's better stocked than the library!" She squealed. Collin groaned.

"Somehow I doubt that Greensburg."

"Look at this!" Alice cried, having already moved on to a different part of the room. She pointed towards the window, obviously enamored by the view. Since the dormitory was so high up it offered an entrancing view of the school grounds—made even more appealing by the pale glow of moonlight. Collin, who had no desire to "look at this" or anything else Alice might discover, rolled over on the couch, burying his face in the soft cushion. He didn't care who had sat there before or who had laid like that, hoping to drown out the voice of his cohort, all he cared about was getting some _rest_ and shutting Alice up.

Unfortunately, Alice had other plans and before Collin could effectively bar himself off from the world, she had upset him onto the ground, his elbow banging painfully against the wood floor.

"Bloody hell Greensburg—what in Merlin's name are you _doing_? Have you gone _mad_?" He demanded, his tone a slight more edgy due to his still-smarting elbow. Alice either didn't catch the malice or chose to ignore it because her tone was unaffected when she pointed to a far wall.

"Collin—_look_," she instructed and Collin reluctantly relented, turning his gaze to the row of portraits that decorated the partition. They were all of couples—a boy and a girl—and appeared to be drowsy from the late hour. Most were sleeping, some were awake and staring curiously at the strangers who had recently come to inhabit the Heads dormitory, and others seemed completely uninterested with the change. "These are all the past head boy and girl," Alice explained unnecessarily, dragging Collin closer for a better look.

Up close the portraits were just as uninteresting. The first couple, a stodgy-looking pair, had awoken and was looking grumpily out at their late-night visitors. The girl, whose hair had been coifed to perfection, was now brushing invisible offenders from her formal-looking gown, her eyebrows lifted haughtily to show that she cared little for the interruption and less for the two new students.

"Oh this won't be creepy—look at the eyebrows on _this _fellow," Collin remarked sarcastically, pointing to a portrait a few spaces down from the first pair. The boy did in fact have quite a remarkable pair of eyebrows that seemed to devour his entire countenance under a tangle of dark hair. Alice merely smiled.

"This is so cool," she said in a half-whisper, reluctant to annoy any of the other portraits who refused to be woken. "Look at this one!" She pointed towards another bored-looking duo who were laboring over a game of chess, although Collin was at a loss as to how they had gotten it in the first place. He was about to ask when Alice pointed to an inscription on the bottom of the picture. Squinting to make out the words, Collin read the tiny, explanatory cursive. _Joanne Price (H) and Richard Thompson (G) were Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1873). They contributed to the position by jointly donating the exquisite chessboard and pieces now located in the southeast corner of the room, to e enjoyed by all future generations. _

"They donated it, so they got to take their picture with it," Alice explained unnecessarily. Collin nodded.

"Remind me to donate some Quidditch supplies," he remarked lightly, causing Alice to roll her eyes at him.

"Do you have to be so incessantly aggravating?" She wanted to know. Collin looked less than offended.

"I'm sorry—these pictures aren't amusing in the least. These people are all boring and dull."

"That's only because you are an unrefined heathen who wouldn't know entertaining if it were to come up and slap you in the face."

"Oh _that's _rich coming from _you_. Miss I-Don't-See-The-Light-Of-Day-Because-I'm-Too-Busy-Studying," Collin taunted in annoyance. Alice glared.

"At least my education is important to me and I don't spend my time slacking off and lazing away, trembling at the mere deliberation of candid _exertion_!" Collin, who had been quite thoroughly lost after the "education is important to me" bit, rolled his eyes.

"Speak English! I don't know the meaning of half those long words, and I don't believe you do either!" He cried. Alice pouted comically for a moment before returning her gaze to the portraits.

"They aren't _all _boring," she corrected. "Look at those two." Collin followed her gaze to a portrait of a smiling couple. The boy had dark hair and glasses and was teasing his redheaded companion mercilessly. She looked severely annoyed but every now and then she would smile brightly, turning to shove the boy playfully, to which he always responded by planting a sloppy kiss on her forehead.

"I suppose _they _aren't so bad," Collin admitted, surprising himself by stepping forward for a better look. He squinted at the inscription. _James Potter (G) and Lily Evans Potter (G) were Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts…._" Do you suppose they were related?" Collin asked, noting the similar surname for the sparring heads. Alice looked dumbstruck.

"Do you know who they are?" She demanded, not waiting for an answer. "They were Harry Potter's _parents_! Lily and James Potter!" Collin looked confused.

"Wait—who again?" He wanted to know. Alice looked horrified.

"You have to be the thickest person I have ever met! Harry Potter—he defeated Voldemort! Every year he's celebrated on July 31st? He's always in all of the magazines and papers! He's an Auror now—is _any_ of this ringing a bell?" Collin looked contemplative.

"I suppose—he's the guy with the dark hair and funny scar?"

"_Yes_. Honestly Collin, how can you not remember him? He's always in the news! You are so incredibly _thick_." Collin shrugged, nonplussed.

"I dunno—I don't keep up with the news all that often." Alice looked annoyed but her gaze softened immediately when she looked back to the portrait of Lily and James who had moved on to sitting back down in their chairs, smiling goofily at eachother.

"They were so much in love," she noted softly, a gentle smile resting on her face. It was sweet and the girlish notions of a fairytale romance were reawakened with a vengeance in her mind.

"Hey—look at these two." Alice snapped out of her revelries and walked a little further down the line to look at the picture in question.

"I recognize them—that's Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy," Alice said, slightly caught off guard by the instantly-recognizable duo in front of her.

"Yeah—she's really gotten control over her hair now. It's a good thing too, she looks completely batty in this," Collin remarked, eliciting a squeal of anger from Alice.

"How can you say that? She was instrumental in the downfall of Voldemort. Do you know she fought alongside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for the entire battle? They had been friends since school—all of them—and they all worked to bring down the dark lord together." Collin looked unimpressed.

"I don't know how or _why _you know all of these random facts about these people. I just thought they looked like a laugh," he admitted, pointing towards the portrait. Alice half-smiled. They _were _rather amusing. Hermione and Draco appeared to be deep in an argument, Hermione's hands flying like angry birds, struggling to break free. She was yelling something at Draco who looked entirely bored with the entire exchange altogether. Every so often he would make some cutting remark that would work to change Hermione's coloring to a deep magenta. They kept getting closer and closer to one another, Hermione looking as if she were going to strike the blond boy in front of her, until they were almost nose to nose. Then, just when it looked like Draco was facing the last moments of his life, he grabbed Hermione around the waist, dragging her into a very-heated-looking kiss that served to immobilize the fuming Gryffindor immediately. Collin smiled at the picture.

"You've got to admit—that guy's got balls," he announced brightly. Alice rolled her eyes. _What a boy_, she thought to herself, squinting to read the inscription below the picture. _Hermione Granger (G) and Draco Malfoy (S) were Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1997). They went on to continue their partnership outside of school and were instrumental in the destruction of the dark lord Voldemort. Miss Granger now works alongside Mr. Malfoy not only in the office but on the home front as well._

"How sweet," Alice remarked, caught up in her fantasies once again. She turned to her own cohort who was yawning widely, obviously eager to retire. "We should bring Helena and Dixon up here sometime." Collin tensed. It was common knowledge that he had a more-than-obvious crush on Helena, but her brother often left something to be desired. He had no intention of ever letting that insufferable know-it-all up into his private common room. He was just so—_annoying_. _Come to think of it, he would be perfect for Alice_, he mused darkly to himself. Alice however, unaware of his thoughts regarding pairing her off with the Slytherin, frowned at his lack of response.

"Why?" Collin asked finally, raking a tired hand through his hair. Alice pouted.

"Because they would like to see this—it _is _their parents after all." Collin shrugged.

"So, they've probably seen enough of them."

"Honestly Collin—I think it would be nice for them to see their parents looking so—I don't know. Young and in love." Collin could have gagged. _Girls_. Still, he didn't protest.

"Whatever you want Greensburg. I'm off to bed." Alice smiled, resolving to tell her friend first thing tomorrow about the portraits. Casting one last look at the lovers, Alice followed Collin's example and headed off to bed. In the now-empty common room, the portraits began to relax. Most notably Lily and James, and Hermione and Draco—smiling in eachother's arms, their pictures physical representations of their enduring love for one another.

**The End**

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Sources:

"Have you been waiting long?"

"No…two, three hours…." **Was from the movie _Pretty in Pink_**

"Speak English! I don't know the meaning of half of those long words and I doubt you do either!" **Was a quote from Alice in Wonderland (turns out I had one more after all!)**

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**Dedications:** Wow, I can't believe it's over! I would like to thank all of my reviewers—you guys can't imagine how much you inspired me to go on and write and update often! It was a blast to write, but it was even lovelier to get all of the feedback and ideas from all of you. It was truly a pleasure to hear from everyone and I'm thrilled that you all took the time to read and review! A special thanks goes to Zoe and Terra who read and reviewed this story even though they didn't necessarily liked the pairing, and I was so mean to Ron (I'm sorry—honest!). Thank you all. It has been a wonderful ride.


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